


Phoenix Reborn

by geri_chan



Series: Always [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 80,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geri_chan/pseuds/geri_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A retelling of Order of the Phoenix. Snape and Lupin find their relationship is strained and tested by their duties to the Order and the fact that Lupin is living in Sirius Black's house.</p><p>Warning for the first chapter only: non-graphic mention of rape that occurred in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with the rest of the series, this is AU, and this story diverges from canon more than the others: I've altered many scenes, especially the ending of the book--i.e. no canon character death at the end.
> 
> Originally posted on Ink Stained Fingers on 09/14/03 .

Snape helped Lupin and Blackmore move their things into Sirius Black's house--although they didn't really have much to move. Lupin, being poor, had a limited amount of possessions, and Blackmore didn't bring back much with her from the Demon Realm other than some clothing and jewelry her grandfather had given her, although she did Apparate to the ruins of Blackmore Manor to fetch a few books and other personal belongings that had not been destroyed during the battle with the Death Eaters. Snape shook his head; he was still having trouble believing that his former Professor's many-times-over great-grandfather was a Demon Prince. 

He looked distastefully around at the house; since Black was the last living member of the family, the house had been empty for years and had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was filthy, filled with nasty little vermin like boggarts and doxies, and the portrait of Black's harridan of a mother harangued them every time they made too much noise or accidentally pulled the curtains back from the portrait. 

It was hard to believe, but Sirius Black actually seemed to be the least offensive member of the clan, judging by the portraits. If he hadn't hated Black so much, Snape might almost have felt sorry for him; the Blacks seemed to be even worse than his own family, if that were possible. And that half-mad house-elf that crept around insulting everyone didn't do anything to make the atmosphere more pleasant. On the other hand, who could blame him for going mad with that stupid portrait yapping at him all the time? Snape's relatives might be evil, cold-hearted, and cruel, but at least they had been quiet! 

"Couldn't we have used your house as our headquarters instead, Professor?" Snape asked Blackmore sourly. "Even if it was wrecked during the battle, it can hardly be worse than this."

"Unfortunately, my house is not Unplottable, and the Black house is," Blackmore replied. "And I hate to admit it, but the protections on the Black house are even stronger than the ones laid on Blackmore Manor. Of course, the fact that we had the ability to summon demons may have made my family a bit complacent..."

"Believe me, Snape," Sirius said in a caustic voice, "I don't want to be here any more than you do! I don't exactly have a lot of fond memories of this place."

"It'll be all right," Lupin said in a tone of forced cheer, "once we clean up the place a bit."

"Nasty wolf-blood creature," muttered Kreacher. "What would my poor Mistress say if she knew Master had brought beasts and traitors into her house?"

Snape snarled and reached for his wand, but Lupin laid a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head. "Leave him be, Severus," Lupin said quietly.

"Don't forget demons," Blackmore cheerfully reminded Kreacher. The house-elf stared at her for a moment, then beat a hasty retreat out of the room. Her raven familiar Bane cawed mockingly after him from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder.

Sirius chuckled. "So, you strike fear into the hearts of house-elves as well as students, Branwen! Good, I'll call on you whenever Kreacher starts to get out of line."

They got settled in, each choosing bedrooms upstairs. Lupin claimed two adjoining rooms for his and Snape's use. "This is quite ideal," Lupin said happily. From the outside, the rooms appeared to be completely separate, but there was a door in the wall between them linking the two rooms together. It would allow the two lovers to enjoy each other's company while satisfying Snape's insistence that none of the other Order members learn of their relationship. Snape seemed pleased, and Lupin decided not to point out that people might still think it odd that two supposed-enemies had chosen rooms right next to each other.

Sirius scowled, but under Blackmore's watchful eye, said nothing, and stomped sullenly off to his own room. Blackmore smiled and left as well, quietly closing the door behind her. Lupin and Snape set about cleaning their rooms, chasing vermin out of the closets and dressers, and began unpacking their things.

Lupin cautiously sat on his bed; when nothing emerged from under the covers or the bed itself but a small puff of dust, he cast a cleaning spell with a quick flick of his wand, and threw his full weight back on the bed, bouncing slightly. "Hmm," he said. "Springy. Quite comfortable, really." He smiled enticingly at Snape. "Why don't you help me try it out?"

Snape immediately dropped the robes he had been hanging up in the closet onto the floor. It was nowhere near the full moon, but if Lupin's inner wolf was feeling...frisky...who was Snape to argue? Snape began feeling rather frisky himself; although he normally abhorred using magic for frivolous reasons, he Apparated himself across the room, directly on top of the bed and, not incidentally, Lupin. 

"Oof!" exclaimed Lupin, when Snape landed on him a little more heavily than he had intended. But when Snape tried to roll off of him, Lupin reached up, entwined his hands in Snape's sleek, black hair, and firmly pulled his face down to be kissed. Snape found the idea of making love to Lupin beneath Black's roof to be rather titillating, in a slightly perverse sort of way, and enthusiastically returned the kiss. Kissing led to caressing, which led to undressing, and things were proceeding quite nicely when suddenly a voice screamed:

"FILTH! PERVERTS! LOVERS-OF-MEN! HOW DARE YOU PERFORM UNNATURAL ACTS BENEATH THE ROOF OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK--"

"Damn this house!" snarled Snape, reaching for his wand. He had overlooked the painting on the wall, since it had appeared to be merely a still life of a bowl of fruit sitting on a table. But now there was a sour-faced old man in it who bore a strong resemblance to the painting of Black's mother downstairs; apparently the occupant of the portrait had been visiting one of his equally nasty relatives and had just returned home to his own painting. Snape pointed his wand at the painting and a ray of red light shot out of it; the old man yelped and vanished, and the portrait exploded into a shower of frame fragments and bits of canvas. Snape set his wand back down, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He turned back to Lupin, saying, "I'll clean up that mess later, but for now why don't we get back to performing some of those unnatural acts our uninvited guest mentioned...?"

Lupin laughed, batted his eyelashes at Snape, and said in tones of admiration, "My, you handled that portrait so masterfully, Severus! Maybe you should help Sirius keep Mrs. Black under control downstairs."

Snape knew Lupin was just teasing him, but he preened a little nonetheless. "Let Black deal with his own mother," Snape said in a haughty voice. "I've got better things to do right now, don't you think?"

His hands began sliding over his lover's body, and Lupin gasped, "Yes, definitely!"

"But if you really think I need to go deal with the portrait right now..."

"Don't you dare stop, Severus!" Lupin growled, and it was Snape's turn to laugh. Lupin wrapped his arms around Snape tightly and growled softly into his ear, "It's not wise to arouse a werewolf and leave the job unfinished..."

That little growl, and the way Lupin was baring his teeth at him, half-threateningly, half-playfully, sent shivers of excitement up and down Snape's spine. "I see I have unleashed the beast in you, Lupin," he purred.

"Yes," agreed Lupin, with a hungry, feral look in his blue eyes that only increased Snape's desire. "It's all your fault. So it's up to you to pacify the beast."

Snape thought that was a bit unfair, since Lupin had started all this, not him. But he certainly didn't want to do anything that would discourage Lupin from initiating sex in the future, so he just grinned and said, "Never let it be said that I don't do my duty by the Order!" His hands continued to caress Lupin, and he murmured into his lover's ear, "You know, what we're doing is doubly unnatural, since you're not only male, but a werewolf..."

"Does that excite you, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Well, yes, actually it does," Snape replied cheerfully. "Doesn't it excite you?"

"Well...yes," Lupin admitted, blushing a little. But the wolf was too much in control right now for him to be embarrassed about it for long, and the two lovers gleefully set about performing acts that would have utterly scandalized the scions of the noble house of Black, had any of them been present to watch.

*** 

Later, the four wizards sat down to dinner together. Blackmore and Sirius had prepared the meal, since no one trusted Kreacher not to poison them, either on purpose or by accident.

"How nice of you to grace us with your presence," Sirius said sarcastically to Snape and Lupin, who had finally emerged from their rooms after he and Blackmore had spent the past few hours cleaning up the kitchen and cooking.

Lupin took a seat at the kitchen table without replying; Sirius wasn't even sure if his friend had heard him. Lupin's face was slightly flushed, and there was a dreamy look in his blue eyes and a wide, silly-looking grin on his face--the same grin Sirius had first noticed on Lupin's face when he had received a love letter from Snape last summer. Sirius scowled.

For once, Snape did not respond in kind to Sirius's insult. Instead, he smiled in a smugly satisfied way. "I'll have you know we were quite busy cleaning your house, Black."

"Quite busy," Lupin said dreamily.

Sirius gave them a skeptical look. "Oh, I'm sure you were 'quite busy'--but not cleaning!"

"Well, there is one less portrait in the house now," Snape said in that same smug manner. 

"Severus lost his temper," Lupin said with a grin.

"He was insulting us," Snape said in a tone of offended dignity.

"He called us perverts," Lupin added helpfully.

"I don't really want to know the details," Sirius said hastily, glaring at his friend. "Er...by the way, who was it?"

"How should I know, Black?" Snape snapped. "All your relatives look alike."

"There was a bowl of fruit in the picture," Lupin said.

"Oh, that's probably Uncle Perseus, then. No loss." Sirius paused, then looked at Snape again, with real interest this time. "You were really able to destroy the portrait?"

"Yes, but I think your uncle may have jumped out of it before I destroyed it," Snape replied, sounding disappointed.

"Hmm," Sirius said with a thoughtful look on his face. "I don't suppose you can do anything about my mother's portrait?"

Snape smirked. "I wouldn't want to interfere in a mother-son relationship, Black. Your mother is your problem."

Sirius scowled, but Blackmore set a pot of stew on the table and announced, "Dinner's ready," the stern look on her face forestalling any further arguments. The discussion turned towards their efforts to re-form the Order of the Phoenix. Most of the surviving old members, such as Mad-Eye Moody and the Weasleys, were eager to re-join, but recruiting new members was proving difficult, thanks to Cornelius Fudge.

"What about your grandfather?" Sirius asked Blackmore. "Can he help us?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Sirius," Lupin said, looking a little alarmed.

"Why not?" Sirius asked. "He seems pretty powerful. He took out three Death Eaters just like that!" Sirius snapped his fingers.

Snape glared at him. "Am I hearing correctly, Black? You call me evil because of my knowledge of the Dark Arts, but you're willing to unleash a Greater Demon upon the world?"

"Well, but he _is_ Branwen's grandfather," Sirius said defensively.

"Severus is correct," Blackmore said. She added with a wry smile, "Not very tactful--but correct. You must not make the mistake of assuming that Araqiel is benevolent to all mankind just because he is my ancestor. All demons thrive on chaos and strife, and Araqiel has no particular love for the human race, aside from Lady Regan and her descendants. He is fascinated by humanity, yes, but do you not recall how I told you that he would watch human war and conflict for entertainment? He is moved on occasion by love and nobility, but like all demons, he also delights in watching bloodshed. I love my grandfather and he loves me, but it would be very, very unwise to summon him without any putting any restrictions on him, and I do not think that any mage living now is strong enough to bind him. Possibly Dumbledore, but I wouldn't want to risk it. Why do you think I summoned Araqiel only as a last resort, when I was dying? Fortunately, he loved me enough to take me back immediately to his own realm for healing, without pausing to make mischief on the earth. But if we summon him to fight in our war without binding him to a contract, he might not simply go home when the war was over. He might want to stay and found an earthly kingdom to match the one he has in the Demon Realm."

"Even if you didn't want him to?" Sirius asked, looking a little stunned by what she had just told them.

"He loves me, Sirius," Blackmore said patiently, "and would never harm me, but that doesn't mean that he will obey me. Look at how he forbade me to go home for fourteen years. He regards me as a child, and compared to him, I am; he is over a thousand years old, with powers I can only dream of. And even if he did agree to tamely go home after Voldemort was defeated, you might not like the way demons wage war. I imagine that Albus would like to keep the bloodshed to a minimum, and so would I, but demons gain power from blood sacrifice. If you summon a demon to fight for you, most likely he will slaughter every enemy he can find, and possibly a few members from your own side if they happen to get in his way. And finally, we do not want to disrupt the balance of power. I am sure Voldemort knows how to summon a demon, but even he is not foolish enough to do so. But if we summon a demon of our own, Voldemort might feel forced to do the same, and if you think one demon can wreak havoc on the world, imagine two or more..."

"All right, all right, I get the picture!" said Sirius. "Forget I asked!"

Blackmore patted him on the hand sympathetically. "I must admit, I did entertain such thoughts myself, but only briefly; in the end, I believe it would do more harm than good." Then she paused and said, sounding a little annoyed, and much like the teacher she used to be, "You must learn to think before you act, Mr. Black. I would have thought that by now you would have learned to curb your impulsiveness at least a little..."

Snape snickered, and Blackmore gave him a sharp look and said pointedly, "I had hoped you both would have gained some maturity over the years, but I see my hopes were in vain."

Both Snape and Sirius subsided into a sulky silence, while Lupin tried very hard not to laugh.

*** 

Ariane Donner was delighted to have her son back home for the summer, but she was disturbed by what he had told her. As soon as they were alone together, Dylan poured out his heart to her, his words tumbling over each other so quickly that she couldn't understand him and had to get him to calm down and speak more slowly. But that was only natural--Dylan by necessity was forced to constantly be on his guard with everyone else; he could only truly relax and talk freely with his mother. He told her all about Professor Snape, how he had told Dylan stories about Evan, and how he had cautioned Dylan to be careful around Draco Malfoy--which was a little odd; it was good advice, but nearly everyone in the wizarding world thought Snape was Lucius Malfoy's lapdog. She was pleased that Dylan was perceptive enough to notice that little incongruent detail, but she was less pleased that Dylan seemed to have taken a liking to Snape.

He didn't come right out and say so, but it was clear that he admired and respected the Potions Master. Severus had helped them both, and he was an honorable man--or at least as honorable as any former Death Eater was capable of being--but she didn't trust him to look after Dylan's safety if doing so conflicted with his own interests. Snape, like most Slytherins, was mainly concerned in looking after number one--in other words, himself. Guilt and honor would only motivate him up to a certain point before his self-preservation instincts kicked in, and she didn't want Dylan relying too heavily on him. She reminded Dylan of this, and he said, "Yes, Mother," but in an impatient tone, and she wasn't sure if he was really taking her seriously.

She was also concerned about his crush on the Muggle-born girl, Hermione. He was clearly conflicted, torn between his feelings for the girl and the ideals his father had died for. He raved about how smart and pretty and fiercely independent she was. "She's so talented," Dylan was saying. "She's the best wizard in her class, pureblood or not; maybe she's the exception that proves the rule?"

Ariane was thinking that although she didn't particularly want to kill Muggles and Mudbloods as Voldemort had, neither did she want one for a daughter-in-law. Then she told herself she was being silly; Dylan was only thirteen--there would be many more girls after this one. She smiled indulgently and patted her son's hand. "You're young still, Dylan. You will break a great many hearts before you graduate, but I suppose there's no harm in pursuing a friendship with this girl for now--so long as it doesn't affect your status in Slytherin House."

"But the Dark Lord--" he protested.

"Has not yet risen," Ariane said.

"But Draco says he has!"

"What?!" exclaimed Ariane.

"Didn't you hear about Cedric Diggory's death?"

"The Daily Prophet said there was some kind of accident during the Tournament--"

"Draco says the Dark Lord killed him! And Dumbledore said so too!" Excitedly, Dylan told her everything Draco had said, about Voldemort's return, that the Malfoys were in his service, how Draco had said they would be inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters in the future although they were too young for that now, and that Draco had invited him over for the summer.

Ariane's face went white. "Absolutely not!" she said. "Lucius Malfoy cannot be trusted!"

"I know, Mother," Dylan said. "So I told Draco I couldn't go, but I blamed it on Grandmother."

"Good boy," she said, but she was still inwardly shaking with fear. Joining the ranks of the Death Eaters would be the only way Ariane and Dylan would ever get revenge for Evan's death, the only way the two of them could escape a life of obscurity and exile. But the Dark Lord had promised them power the first time around, and Evan had died and Voldemort had fallen. 

It was only thanks to Evan's protectiveness and her own pragmatism that she had not ended up in Azkaban: Evan had taught her all of the spells Voldemort taught his Death Eaters, but she had never formally joined their ranks. He had wanted her to have "plausible deniability" in case anything happened to him, and she had agreed, although she had not really believed that Evan would die. She had not really wanted to become a Death Eater anyway, or at least she had no taste for torturing and killing Muggles and Mudbloods, but she had craved the power Voldemort offered his followers, had dreamed of she and Evan being among the ruling elite of the wizarding world; she had wanted to humble her mother and brothers for disowning her and scorning her lover. But it had all gone to hell, with the Dark Lord's followers disgraced, in prison, or in hiding.

She had prepared Dylan for the second coming of the Dark Lord, but she now realized that deep inside, she had not really expected it to happen. And she was no longer sure that the mere chance of power and revenge was worth risking her son's life for. The Dark Lord had failed her before; she would not blindly hand her son over to him now. It might be that Voldemort would prevail and they would have no choice but to join him, but she wanted some guarantee of success before she did so. But timing would be critical: throw in their lot with Voldemort too soon, and they risked death and punishment if the Dark Lord fell again, but if they waited too long and the Dark Lord did prevail, they would not be of the elite, but merely part of the rabble.

"Do nothing for now," Ariane said in a slightly shaky voice. "Try to keep on Draco's good side, but commit to nothing, and never, ever let him take you to any secret meetings without my permission, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"Yes, Mother," Dylan whispered. He too, seemed to be frightened and conflicted. "I thought this was what I wanted, Mother, but now I'm not so sure." Looking a little shamefaced, he said, "I'm afraid. I saw Diggory's dead body on the field. I--I didn't think it would happen this way."

"I know," Ariane said softly, reaching out to caress his cheek.

"And I don't want Hermione to die. And I don't want to fight Uncle Math if he decides to fight against the Dark Lord again!" Dylan looked up with a more determined expression on his face. "But I want to avenge Father's death. And I want to make Grandmother and my uncles sorry for the way they've treated you; I want to make you head of the Donner family, as you should be!"

"Oh my dear son," Ariane whispered. "That doesn't matter to me--not more than your life. I would rather spend the rest of my life in exile than lose you like I lost your father."

"But--" Dylan said in confusion.

Ariane laid a gentle finger across his lips. "Shh. We must wait and bide our time, wait and see where the chips will fall. I will not make the same mistake I did last time, of choosing the losing side. It may be that the Dark Lord is our path to power...but we will wait and see."

"Yes, Mother," Dylan said unhappily. 

Ariane knew he wanted clear black-and-white, yes-or-no answers; he had expected her to tell him which path he should follow, but Ariane had no answers for him right now. Once again, he was learning a harsh lesson at an early age. She bitterly mourned the fact that he had never been able to enjoy a true childhood.

"Mother?" Dylan asked. "Do you think Professor Snape is still a Death Eater? Sometimes it seems like he's trying to steer me away from the Death Eaters, but I don't know if he really means it, if he's just being cautious because he's afraid I might tell other people that he's a Death Eater, or if he's just testing me somehow."

"I don't know," Ariane said slowly. "Perhaps he thinks you're too young to make such a choice right now. Or perhaps he doesn't really know either; he might be waiting, like us, to see if the Dark Lord will prevail or not." She stared at her son, wondering if the path Snape chose might influence Dylan's own decision; the thought was somewhat disturbing.

*** 

A few days later, the entire Donner family sat down to dinner together. Ariane's mother and brothers had decided to grace the table with their presence; no doubt Deirdre Donner wanted to check up on her grandson after his return from Hogwarts, probably checking for signs that he was on the path to becoming a Death Eater.

"Dylan has done well at school," Mathias was saying to his sister in a pleasant, casual tone of voice, as if they had not bitterly argued over whether or not Dylan should be allowed to attend Hogwarts. "He received the highest marks of all the students of his year."

Deirdre just stared at Dylan, a cold look on her face. She was still a handsome woman, with silver-blonde hair like her daughter, although it was now much more silver than blonde. But there was no kindness, no mercy, no compassion in her face; it might as well have been carved from a block of white marble--beautiful, perfect, and utterly lacking any human warmth. "It's not his intelligence I'm worried about," she said in a voice as cold as the expression on her face, "but rather, his character."

"His Head of House, Professor Snape, says that his behavior has been impeccable," Ariane said to her mother in an equally cold voice. "His letter says that Dylan has been a model student. He even commended Dylan for volunteering for extra work during his free time, helping to brew healing potions for the Triwizard Tournament."

Deirdre sniffed disdainfully. "As if I would trust the word of a former Death Eater!"

"Professor Snape never stood trial!" Dylan said, jumping to his teacher's defense. "He's a respected member of the staff, and the Headmaster trusts him, so you have no right to talk about him that way!"

"Watch your tone, boy!" Gwydion Donner, Ariane's older brother snapped. He was a handsome man, with shoulder-length blond hair and an elegant goatee. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, but right now he was staring at Dylan with a look of arrogance and contempt. "You exist on charity; the house you live in, the clothes you wear, every bite you eat comes to you because of Lady Deirdre, and don't you forget it! She could cast you out on the street at any time, you worthless whelp of a Death Eater!"

Ariane's eyes blazed with rage, but before either she or Dylan could reply, Mathias's wife Goewin said coolly, "Actually, Gwydion, that is not true. The house and the land it stands on belong to Mathias, or rather to me, since he signed it over to me in our marriage contract."

Gwydion's mouth dropped open. It was an open secret among the family that he and his brother had "dishonored" Goewin when she was a girl, and Mathias had made up for their crime by marrying her and bestowing upon her all his lands and wealth. Goewin had never made an issue of it before, and Mathias had continued to run the estate as he had in the past, but technically it all belonged to his wife. Gwydion's twin Gilbert squirmed nervously in his seat; their uncle had punished them by literally turning them into beasts and forcing them to live as animals in the woods for three years. Gwydion had recovered his sanity upon resuming human form, but Gilbert had never been quite right in the head since. He had become simple-minded; he often giggled at things that weren't there, and like a small child was easily distracted from what he was saying or doing by the smallest things--a sunbeam falling through the window, or a butterfly flitting in the garden. And he was always very, very nervous around Mathias and Goewin.

"In fact," Goewin added with a smile, clearly enjoying herself, "since Math and I have no children, nor are likely to, I have decided to make Dylan my heir."

"WHAT?!" screeched Gwydion, and Deirdre's face went even more cold and rigid, which meant that she was furious. Gilbert looked nervously at his brother and mother, and began to whimper softly.

Ariane was just as shocked as her brother. She knew that Goewin was fond of Dylan and had always treated him kindly, for which she was grateful, but she had never in her wildest dreams imagined that her young "aunt" would do such a thing.

Deirdre's face remained cold, but inwardly she was raging. The Donner title and lands were passed down matrilineally, unlike most of the wizarding families, except perhaps the Blackmores. There had been a few Blackmore Lords, but mostly they had borne girls, who always kept the Blackmore name even after they married. But the Blackmores were all dead now, and good riddance; they were Dark Wizards all of them, whether they were Slytherins or not. She had been furious when her childhood friend Fiona Byrne had married Meredith Blackmore; Fiona had claimed he was a good and kind man despite his name and his House (Slytherin, of course), but he must have been entangled in something nasty because he and his wife had been killed under mysterious circumstances. And their daughter Branwen had been an arrogant bitch; she remembered how the young teacher had argued with her over her decision to disown Ariane, how she had looked at Deirdre with cold, disapproving eyes--how dare the impertinent little wench judge her? Deirdre had not been sorry when she heard Branwen had died, under even stranger and darker circumstances than her father.

But Deirdre was getting caught up in the past...she forcibly wrenched her mind back to the present. Ariane had been her heir, as the only daughter, but after Deirdre disowned her, Gwydion became her heir. She was content with that; secretly he had always been her favorite anyway, and as long as he someday had a daughter, the Donner title would pass back into the female line. For now, Deirdre controlled most of the Donner lands and wealth, but her brother Mathias had his own estate, given to him by their indulgent mother. Math had been a confirmed bachelor, and even after he married Goewin, no children resulted from that marriage. He was probably too old to sire any by now--if he shared Goewin's bed at all. Deirdre wasn't convinced that they were husband and wife in anything more than name. And since Math had no children, she had assumed that Gwydion would eventually inherit his lands. It came as a bitter shock to her--and to Gwydion as well, judging by his reaction--that he would not.

"The boy isn't even a Donner!" Deirdre said in an icy voice. It had been another bone of contention between her daughter and herself, that Ariane had insisted that her son bear his father's surname. Perhaps in time she could have accepted Dylan into the family if he had been given the Donner name and been raised as a Donner, if he could have been raised to forget his father's heritage...

Goewin said defiantly, "Even if he bears his father's name, your blood still flows through his veins, Deirdre. He is family; he is blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh."

"Tainted blood!" spat Deirdre. "And Ariane is no daughter of mine, so her son is no kin to me, either!"

"Tainted blood!" Gilbert giggled maliciously.

Dylan looked hurt and furious, and when she saw his face, Goewin grew even more angry. "Well, he is kin to me and Math! I love Dylan like a son, and I have declared that he will be my heir! There is nothing you can do about it--the papers have already been drawn up and signed! Accio!" She pulled out her wand and a roll of parchment flew into her hand. She handed it to Deirdre, who unrolled it and read it, her cold expression finally giving way to open rage. She looked as if she wanted to rip it in half, but Goewin just laughed.

"Go ahead and rip it up, Deirdre," she taunted. "I have already filed a copy with the Ministry, and it is now an official court document!"

"How can you permit this, Math?!" Deirdre shouted, waving the parchment at him.

"I'm quite in favor of it, Sister," he said quietly. "Goewin has the right to do whatever she likes, of course, since the lands belong to her, but she did ask for and receive my blessing. It is long past time you let go of your grudge, Deirdre; Dylan is not to blame for his father's crimes. But since I fear you cannot, or will not, let go your grudge, we wanted to be sure that Ariane and Dylan will be provided for should anything happen to us."

"You did this on purpose!" Gwydion shouted furiously. "You did this to get back at me!"

Goewin gave him a smile of bitter satisfaction. "You have no one but yourself to blame, 'nephew,'" she sneered. "If you had not helped your brother to rape me, then Math would never have married me, and the estate would not be mine to give away."

"We agreed never to speak of this again!" screamed Deirdre, and Gilbert began whimpering again, hugging himself and rocking back and forth in his chair. Dylan's eyes went wide with shock, then he glared at his two uncles with a look of pure hatred.

"And please note, that in the will, I have stated that even if Math and I should have children, Dylan will still be an equal co-heir along with them. Though you had better hope that we do not, Gwydion--for if I bear a girl, then she will be heir to the entire Donner estate, not you." Gwydion and Deirdre stared at Goewin in shock and horror, and she smiled sweetly at them.

"You plotted this from the beginning!" Gwydion accused. "You wanted our wealth, so you led Gilbert on, you sl--"

"SILENCE!" roared Math, rising to his feet and leveling his wand at Gwydion. "You will speak to my wife with respect when you sit at our table," he said coldly. "And do not blame an innocent girl for the crimes you and your brother committed; it is only through her compassion that the two of you did not go to prison for them."

"It wasn't compassion that motivated her," Gwydion hissed. "Her precious maidenly honor would have been besmirched if word got out."

"Mostly I took pity on Math," Goewin said quietly. "Because he loved you, I agreed to let him punish you privately so your lives would not be ruined. But yes, I was also afraid of what people might say. But I am no longer a naive teenage girl, Gwydion, and I am not ashamed, for I know I did nothing wrong. And I no longer care about my reputation--so you will make no trouble for Dylan, you will not oppose my choice of heir, or I will tell the entire wizarding world what you have done, tell them what brute animals you and your brother are!" Gwydion sat there, turning red and seething. "I think you are even worse than Gilbert," Goewin continued. "Even though you were not the one who actually raped me. Because you put the idea into his head, and you planned it, though you were always the wiser of the two and should have known better. You are an intelligent and gifted wizard, Gwydion, but you have no conscience and no compassion."

"Since I cannot insult your wife at your table," Gwydion said through clenched teeth, "I will leave that table, Uncle." He pushed back his chair, stood up, and Apparated out of the house without another word. 

Deirdre also stood up, taking Gilbert by the arm and pulling him from his seat as well. "I will not forget this, Brother," she said coldly. "That you chose tainted blood over your true kin." Then she and Gilbert vanished as well.

Dylan sat at the table, trembling slightly, and Goewin smiled at him sadly. "I'm sorry, Dylan," she said softly. "I meant for it to be a happy occasion when I told you. But I let Gwydion get to me, and I lost my temper and threw it in his face. I'm sorry."

"You really mean it?" he asked softly. "You've made me your heir? Even if you have children of your own?"

"Yes, Dylan," Goewin said, leaning across the table to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. "You are my nephew. I love you, and I want to see that you and your mother are provided for. So never again let anyone speak to you of charity, and never again feel that you are in exile here, Dylan, for now this estate is truly your home."

Dylan began to weep, and Ariane pulled him close and held him as if he were a little boy again. "Thank you, Goewin," she said softly. She and Goewin had never liked each other much when they were younger. Goewin had thought Ariane was stuck-up and arrogant, and Ariane had thought Goewin was a prissy little goody-two-shoes. And then, when she had accused Ariane's brothers of rape, Ariane had not wanted to believe it, and had blamed Goewin. But deep down, she knew Uncle Math would never have punished them if it had not been true. And after Evan had died, and she had been sent into exile on Math's country estate, Goewin had not taunted or gloated at her, but had treated her with kindness. And both she and Math had loved Dylan and been kind to him as well, and for that alone Ariane would have been grateful. Somehow, over the years, they had reached an understanding of sorts, but she was truly touched now by Goewin's generosity. And greatly relieved, for now, even if Dylan didn't join Voldemort, he would have an inheritance, a position and place of his own. It might not be as grand, but perhaps it would be safer...

"You and Dylan are family, Ariane," Goewin said quietly. "We love you both." 

Math smiled and walked around to the other side of the table, kissing both his niece and his great-nephew on the tops of their heads. "Enough tears now," he said gently. "Let's finish dinner."

Dylan wiped his eyes on his sleeve but did not pick up his fork. He was staring at his beautiful young great-aunt. "Did my uncles...did they really...?" He couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Yes," Goewin answered quietly. "I had intended to spare you the details since I thought it was all in the past, but I suppose you have a right to know the truth now. I left Hogwarts at an early age to study with your Uncle Math because I have--or rather, had--a very rare form of Divination magic. I was what is called an Oracle; I had the power to see into the future, but this power is linked to, well, virginity. My Sight would last only so long as I remained chaste. It was not a great burden for me, for I was a scholarly sort, and not the type who giggled about boys and worried about my looks. And anyway, there was more at stake than my physical desires--Voldemort was on the rise, and Math hoped my powers might help them defeat the Dark Lord. 

"But Gilbert became infatuated with me, tried to lure me into his bed, and when I refused, he even proposed marriage to me. I told him the work I was doing with Math was too important; I'm afraid I was a bit abrupt with him--I told him it was selfish of him to put his personal feelings ahead of our duties as wizards. Gilbert was hurt and despondent, and Gwydion, who was always overprotective of his siblings, was furious. He told Gilbert that he would see to it that his desires were satisfied whether I willed it or not. He arranged to lure Math away from the house on a pretext, then disarmed and bound me magically--he was a stronger mage than I, at least in the combative magics. He stood guard outside my room while Gilbert raped me; all the house-elves and human servants were too afraid of him to interfere." 

Goewin smiled bitterly. "Gilbert did not find the experience as satisfying as he thought it would be; I screamed and fought the entire time even though I knew it was futile. But I would never let it be said that I willingly gave up my power and my virtue to him; I screamed loud enough for the entire house to hear. Gwydion told me if I knew what was good for me, I would keep my mouth shut and tell no one what had happened, that I would be useless to Math without my Sight, and no man of rank would marry a despoiled maiden. 'Don't you think Math will notice that I can no longer See?' I asked him. He just laughed and said, 'Surely you can make up a few visions; fortune-tellers do it all the time.' I was so angry; not just because of the rape, but because he would have had me feed false information to those fighting the war against Voldemort, risking their lives and possibly the outcome of the war itself.

"So when Math came home, I told him what they had done, and the servants testified on my behalf. Deirdre, who always spoiled her children, begged me to not bring charges against them, offered me money and property to keep quiet. Math insisted they must be punished for their crimes, but he was worried that my reputation would be sullied; Gwydion was probably right when he said people would see me as defiled, unfair though that might be. So Math punished his nephews privately. He told them that since they had behaved no better than brute animals, that was how they would live for the next three years. He transfigured them into beasts--deer for the first year, wild pigs for the second, and wolves for the third. And he married me, and signed over all his lands and wealth to me, although I told him that was not necessary."

Math sighed wearily. "I hoped they would learn humility and compassion once they knew what it was like to be helpless, to be at the mercy of predators and the elements. I hoped they would learn to think and to value their humanity, once they had been subject to mindless, overpowering instincts of beasts. But Gilbert's mind was damaged by the experience, and it seems Gwydion has learned nothing."

Dylan was furious; he adored Goewin, who was one of the few people who had shown him any kindness and affection while he was growing up. He clenched his fists and shouted, "Three years as beasts is not enough! I'll kill them for what they did to you!"

"No!" shouted Goewin, before Math or Ariane had time to react. "They are not worth it, Dylan! I would not have you stain your hands with blood and become a murderer for their sake; they are small-minded, petty men, and they are not worth it." She reached across the table to cradle his face in her hands. "You are the one who is important, you are the one who matters to me. Do not throw your life away for them."

"Goewin is right, my son," Ariane murmured.

"But--" Dylan protested.

Goewin smiled. "I am not afraid of them any longer, Dylan. Rather, I would say they are afraid of me! And I am happy, Dylan. I know the servants gossip and pity the young woman tied to an elderly husband, but I love your Uncle Math. I always have, since I first became his apprentice, though I viewed him more as a father figure than a potential husband. But I regret nothing; I value Math's wisdom and kindness far more than any callow youth, however handsome he might be. Your uncles taught me that a pretty face means nothing; true beauty comes from within. And Math has a truly beautiful soul."

The old wizard chuckled. "You make me blush, wife!" he said, and he and Goewin laughed, gazing fondly at each other, and Dylan began to relax a little. "Do not worry about Gwydion and Gilbert," Math said to his great-nephew in a more serious tone. "They know I will not be so merciful a second time if they try to harm Goewin, or you and your mother." His expression suddenly turned fierce and implacable, and Dylan could well believe that he had fought in the war against Voldemort. Then Math sighed, looking more weary than angry. "I will ban them from the estate from now on; you will no longer have to listen to their insults, Dylan. I know they have treated you badly, and I should not have let it go on for so long, but I had still hoped for a reconciliation; I hoped with time they might relent and accept you and your mother back into the family."

"That will never happen," Ariane said.

"I fear that is true, my dear, though it breaks my heart," Math said sadly. 

"I don't care," Dylan said. "You and Mother and Aunt Goewin are all the family I need!" It was true; he felt even happier now than the day he had been admitted to Hogwarts. He was truly part of a family now, and not just a charity case to be pitied.

The three adults smiled at him, and dinner resumed, with talk turning towards lighter subjects, and for a time, Ariane and Dylan were able to forget about the Dark Lord and the choices they would have to make.

*** 

Harry heard noises, and quietly picked up his wand and headed downstairs, expecting to confront burglars, but instead found his house full of witches and wizards. "Professor Moody?" he asked uncertainly, recognizing one figure. But having spent nearly an entire school year being taught by an impostor Moody, he wasn't sure what to believe.

"I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" Moody growled. "Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

"It's all right, Harry," said another familiar voice. "We've come to take you away."

Harry's heart leapt. "P-Professor Lupin? Is that you?"

"Why are we standing in the dark?" asked a woman's voice. "Lumos."

Light filled the room, and Harry could see that it was indeed Lupin. He looked tired, and his robes were shabbier than ever, but he didn't look as ill and gaunt as he often had during the year he had taught at Hogwarts. He smiled broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back through his shock.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft; she was young and pretty, and had short, spiky violet hair. "Wotcher Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus!" said a bald black wizard who wore a gold hoop in one ear. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," wheezed a silver-haired wizard. "Lily's eyes."

"Oh, shut up!" said a woman in a cold, commanding tone of voice. She was very beautiful, with waist-length black hair, ivory skin, and piercing green eyes. She wore green robes, and a huge raven was perched on her shoulder. She looked to be fairly young, somewhere in her late twenties or very early thirties, but there was an intimidating air about her, and the other witches and wizards fell silent as she looked around the room with a steely gaze in her eyes. That gaze was remarkably similar to the one Professor Snape used to quell unruly students.

"It's rude to talk about Mr. Potter as if he weren't even here," she said sternly, and her comrades looked a little ashamed, except for Moody, who looked impatient, and Lupin, who looked amused. "He is a person, not a story in the Daily Prophet!" Her expression softened as she turned to Harry and gave him a kindly smile. "Hello, Mr. Potter. I am Branwen Blackmore, and this is my familiar, Bane." The raven cawed in greeting. She would have continued introducing the other wizards, but Moody interrupted her, demanding proof that Harry was really himself, and not some Death Eater in disguise.

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag," Harry said nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin, and Moody seemed satisfied with that. Lupin finished introducing Harry to the other witches and wizards, and explained that they were taking him to a safe place--he couldn't say where, because Moody claimed it "wasn't safe" to discuss it here. But Harry figured anywhere had to be better than Privet Drive.

They took Harry to an old, derelict mansion that looked as if it belonged to the Darkest of wizards. Mrs. Weasley was there to greet him, but neither she nor any of the other adults bothered to explain anything to him; they were apparently in a big rush to get to some important meeting. He was overjoyed to see his friends Ron and Hermione, but furious with them at the same time for not writing to him and telling him what was going on. They tried to explain that Dumbledore had forbade them to contact him, but all Harry's pent up resentment and frustration came pouring out, and he found himself screaming angrily at his two best friends until Hermione was close to tears. He knew he wasn't really being fair to them, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. Finally he calmed down long enough for them to explain about the Order of the Phoenix. Despite his anger, Harry was intrigued--especially when he found out that Snape was a member of the Order, and was in fact here right now giving a "top secret" report.

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children peered out over the bannister from the second-story landing, and saw the hallway below packed with witches and wizards whispering excitedly together. In the center of the group was Harry's least favorite teacher, greasy-haired Professor Snape. Fred and George started to lower an Extendable Ear, hoping to catch some of the conversation, but the crowd seemed to be dispersing. Bane looked up at them from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder and cawed. Fred hastily reeled up the Ear as the witch turned her steely green gaze in their direction. Her eyes lingered on the children for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then she looked away. 

"Will you stay for dinner, Severus?" Lupin was asking Professor Snape, to Harry's horror. Harry wondered why Lupin sounded so hopeful, as if he wanted Snape to say "yes"; after all, Snape was the one who had forced Lupin to resign his position at Hogwarts.

Snape hesitated, then his eyes flickered towards the children, who hastily backed out of sight. "No," he said curtly. "I'm afraid I have business to attend to." The children cautiously emerged and peered back down from the bannister again.

Lupin looked oddly disappointed, and Blackmore looked both amused and annoyed at the same time. "Don't be a stranger, Severus," she said. "I look forward to catching up with my old students."

Snape shot her a look that was resentful and and slightly cowed at the same time. Strange; Harry had never seen Snape intimidated by anyone, except perhaps Moody (though of course that hadn't been the real Moody, but an impostor). "Another time, Professor," he said, a little stiffly.

Blackmore smiled and said, "It's no longer Professor, Severus, but Branwen."

Snape looked extremely uncomfortable, and said, "Another time, then, Branwen," and turned and walked down the hallway, out of Harry's sight. He heard the front door open and then close.

Ron sighed in relief. "Snape hardly ever eats here. Thank God! C'mon."

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Who's this Branwen Blackmore and why'd Snape call her 'Professor'? She's way too young to have been his teacher--"

"It's sort of confusing," Hermione said. "I'm not sure I understand it myself. But we've got to go to dinner now; maybe Professor Lupin can explain it to you later..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Make sure you keep your voice down in the hall."

Harry was about to protest that he didn't want to wait till later for an explanation, but was interrupted by a loud CRASH--Tonks had tripped over an umbrella stand. Moth-eaten velvet curtains on the wall flew apart, revealing a portrait of an old woman in a black cap, who started screaming, causing all the other portraits in the hall to scream as well.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers--"

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" roared a man with long black hair, hauling on the curtain and trying to draw it closed.   It was Sirius Black. Harry's mouth dropped open.

Sirius and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed while Sirius and the woman in the portrait continued to scream insults at each other the entire time. Once the curtains closed, the screams died down into silence.   "Hello, Harry," said Sirius grimly. "I see you've met my mother."

*** 

Harry learned that the house they were staying in, the house the Order was using as their Headquarters, belonged to Sirius. He was happy to see his godfather again, although Sirius seemed restless and unhappy about being cooped up in the house; as a fugitive, he could not leave without risking being caught by the Ministry. After dinner, Mrs. Weasley and Sirius started arguing over whether Harry should be told about the Order or not. Lupin watched Sirius with a strange look in his eyes, then finally intervened, saying Harry should be told the facts--or at least some of them. Mrs. Weasley was not happy, but gave in, and the adults began explaining about the Order, and the need to keep it secret because of Cornelius Fudge's attempts to discredit Dumbledore. Although most people refused to believe that Voldemort had returned, the Order had managed to recruit some members, including Kingsley Shacklebolt, the black wizard with the earring, and Tonks, the young witch with the spiky hair.

"And of course, Branwen," Sirius added. "Well, she was actually a member the first time around..."

Harry stared at the beautiful young witch, who had remained quiet during dinner and the argument between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. She was feeding scraps left over from dinner to her raven as her eyes flickered back and forth between Sirius and Harry. Her green eyes were expressionless as glass, though, and Harry had no idea what she was thinking.

"Er...excuse me...Miss...um...Ms. Blackmore," Harry said hesitantly.

Blackmore smiled at him slightly and said, "You may call me Branwen, Harry." Then seeing the doubtful look on his face--he was having trouble imagining himself calling that intimidating woman by her first name, she added, "Or if you are not comfortable with that, you may call me Professor Blackmore, although technically I am no longer a teacher. But Severus, Remus, and Sirius still tend to address me by my old title, so you may as well, too."

That seemed like a perfect opening. "You were a teacher?" Harry asked. "At Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she said calmly, feeding Bane another tidbit. "I taught Sirius and the others. Your father, too, actually."

"B-b-but," Harry stammered, "you're too young to have taught Sirius!"

Mrs. Weasley was glaring at Blackmore. "I think this falls under the category of things Harry doesn't need to know, Branwen!"

"Eventually he's going to hear talk about the old days, Molly," Blackmore said patiently. "And he's going to hear that Branwen Blackmore was supposedly killed by Death Eaters fourteen years ago."

"I don't understand," Harry said helplessly.

Blackmore turned to look at him, her expression grave. "I taught at Hogwarts for several years, until your father's class graduated, Harry. Then I gave up my position and became an Auror, because the Ministry desperately needed people to fight against Voldemort. I captured many Death Eaters, and had to kill a few, and the Dark Lord came to see me as a threat. He sent three Death Eaters to my house to kill me, and they nearly succeeded. But I was able to summon help." She slightly stressed the word "summon".

"I don't understand," Harry said again.

"That's right," Blackmore said. "I almost forgot. Hogwarts no longer teaches Incantations and Summonings. My specialty of magic is Summonings, Harry. I can summon certain creatures and spirits, such as elementals, to aid me and do my bidding."

"Branwen!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, looking very upset. 

Blackmore and Lupin exchanged significant looks. She turned back to Harry and said, "I summoned an ally to help me, who killed the Death Eaters and took me back to his realm to heal. But time passes differently in the...er...spirit realm than it does in our world, so when I returned, fourteen years had passed in this world, but I had not aged."

"Spirit realm?" Harry said in a puzzled tone. "I still don't understand. And how come Hogwarts doesn't teach Summonings anymore?"

Lupin and Blackmore exchanged another look. "A Summonings spell can be used to summon creatures of the Dark as well as of the Light," Lupin said quietly. "After Prof--I mean, Branwen--disappeared, the school governors removed it from the curriculum because they believed it was a form of the Dark Arts, or could be used as such."

"The spells themselves are neither good nor evil," Blackmore told Harry and the other children, who were staring at her wide-eyed. "They are merely a tool that can be used for good or for ill. Like a knife, for instance--a scalpel can be used by a surgeon to save a life, while the same instrument in the wrong hands could be used as a weapon to take a life."

"Can you teach us Summonings spells?" George asked eagerly.

"NO!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. George and Fred looked crestfallen.

"In any case," Blackmore said, "I am back, and now a member of the Order. But Dumbledore doesn't want Voldemort to know that I'm alive, so I'm laying low and staying undercover."

"So how come _you_ get to leave the house?" Sirius muttered under his breath.

"I don't often leave the house," Blackmore explained to Harry, pointedly ignoring Sirius. "But occasionally I do go out on errands for the Headmaster. Since I have been presumed dead for fourteen years, no one is actively looking for me, as they would, for say, a wanted criminal with a price on his head. A slight glamor to disguise my features is all that's required. Even if someone saw me undisguised, they would probably think I just bore a startling resemblance to Branwen Blackmore, but they wouldn't think it was me. I am dead, after all," she said in a dry voice. "And if I were alive, I should be in my forties, so I am clearly too young to be myself."

Sirius didn't care to challenge that, and the conversation turned back to what Voldemort was doing. 

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged a fleeting look. "Stuff he can only get by stealth," Sirius said. "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra--?"

"That's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, looking furious. Harry and Fred began to protest, but she remained adamant.

"I think Molly's right, Sirius," Lupin said quietly. "We've said enough." Blackmore nodded in agreement, and Sirius shrugged but did not argue. Recognizing defeat, Harry and the other children rose from their seats and headed off to bed.

*** 

After seeing the house, Harry was not surprised to learn that his godfather's family had been practitioners of the Dark Arts, although they had not been Death Eaters (except for Sirius's younger brother). He was shocked to learn that Sirius was related to Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, though. But Sirius clearly didn't care to talk about his relatives. Harry and his friends worked hard helping Sirius clean the house and rid it of unwanted occupants and items.

Snape flitted in and out of the house. He and Lupin seemed to be working on some sort of secret project together, because he would show up and tell Lupin in an imperious tone of voice that he needed to share some information with him; then he and Lupin would disappear upstairs and confer for a couple of hours. Sirius always looked grumpy whenever Snape came around, but Blackmore always seemed to be pleased, though Harry couldn't imagine why. Snape rarely stayed for meals--to Harry's relief--but occasionally he did, mostly at Blackmore's insistence, and on those rare occasions he usually slept over. Apparently he had a room reserved for his use upstairs, but almost never used it. He was usually gone by the time the children woke up the next morning.

Snape was descending the staircase one evening, when Blackmore smiled and said, "Won't you stay for dinner, Severus?"

"I've put on a big roast," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "There's plenty for everyone."

"Don't encourage him, Mum," Ron groaned softly as he and Harry watched from a safe distance.

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy--" Snape began.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to keep you from your 'important' work," sneered Sirius.

Snape just gave him a condescending smile and said, "And how is the cleaning coming along, Black? Got the place all spic and span, have you?"

"And how did your little conference with Remus go today, Sevie?" Sirius asked in a snide tone of voice and Snape's face turned red. His hand started to reach inside his robes, as if to grab his wand...

"SEVERUS! SIRIUS!" Blackmore shouted in clear, ringing tones and Sirius and Snape both froze in place. Ron and Harry found themselves snapping to attention even though she wasn't talking to them. She glared at both of her former students, the steely gaze of her green eyes as sharp as daggers, it seemed, for it cut both men down to size. They cringed and hunched their shoulders slightly, seeming to shrink in size; they were suddenly transformed from two formidable wizards into two schoolboys being scolded by their teacher.

"Damn, but she's good," whispered Ron. "I'm glad she's not teaching at Hogwarts anymore."

"I think Snape picked up some of his techniques from her," Harry whispered back.

"Yeah, but she is a lot prettier than Snape, though!"

Meanwhile, Blackmore was delivering a stinging lecture to her two errant students. "I'm very disappointed in both of you! You're behaving more immaturely than any of the children in this house! How do you expect to set an example for your students, Severus, or for your godson, Sirius, if you can't behave like adults? We are all on the same side, gentlemen, and I think defeating Voldemort is just a little more important than your petty squabbles! Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two men mumbled in chorus.

"Sirius," Blackmore continued, "behave yourself. Severus is a member of the Order, and should be allowed to take meals with fellow members without being subjected to your snide comments. And Severus, stop baiting Sirius. You know perfectly well why he can't leave the house. And the work he is doing here IS important; the Order would not be able to function without a headquarters."

"Yes, ma'am," Snape and Sirius said again.

"Now, Severus, you _will_ stay for dinner." Snape opened his mouth to protest, but Blackmore cut him off. "I know for a fact that Dumbledore has no tasks lined up for you for at least the next few days, and I would enjoy your company this evening, although right at this moment, I can't for the life of me remember why. And besides, the full moon is a week away, and I could use your help with the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Blackmore's been making the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin?" Harry asked, startled.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Fred and George overheard them talking; Snape's too busy to make the potion, so he showed Blackmore how."

"I thought it was supposed to be really hard to make."

"Yeah, well, apparently she's a whiz at Potions as well as Summonings. Good enough to make the Wolfsbane Potion, anyway."

Lupin was coming down the staircase now. Snape looked up and said accusingly, "You didn't tell me the full moon was near!"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Lupin asked mildly, and for some reason, Snape blushed.

"Very well," Snape said in a rather huffy tone. "I'll stay for a few days and help you with the potion, Branwen. Just to keep Lupin from mauling the children, of course."

"Of course," Blackmore said, an amused smile on her face. Lupin chuckled, apparently unoffended by Snape's comment.

Snape caught sight of Ron and Harry and added dourly, "Although I could do with a few less students in my class..."

Dinner that night was an odd affair. Sirius sulked throughout the meal, clearly not happy that Snape was there. Snape kept making rude comments to Lupin, but curiously, Blackmore didn't scold him, perhaps because Lupin smiled cheerfully at Snape no matter what he said, which seemed to irritate Snape even more. Finally, he gave up trying to insult Lupin, and had a reasonably civilized conversation with Blackmore about some rare book on potions he had been reading. Mrs. Weasley actually seemed grateful for Snape's presence, because her children were always more subdued and better behaved when Snape dined with them.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, a little timidly.

Lupin said gently, "I'm not your teacher anymore, so you may call me Remus or Lupin if you wish."

Hermione didn't feel comfortable calling him by either name, so she just said, "Yes, well, I was wondering...the full moon is near, but you don't seem to be as sick as you were when you were at Hogwarts..."

Lupin smiled warmly at her. "Yes, it's because of the Wolfsbane Potion." Snape looked up, breaking off his conversation with Blackmore, and seemed to be a little alarmed. Lupin grinned at him, then continued, "The inventor of the potion has made some improvements to it. I don't get as sick as I used to during the week leading up to the full moon, and the transformation itself is much easier and less painful." Hermione looked interested, and Lupin added, a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes, "Perhaps Severus could discuss it with you if you're interested, Hermione."

"Perhaps Severus has more important things to do with his time, Lupin," Snape retorted. 

Hermione looked disappointed. Harry thought she was nuts; why on earth would anyone want to take extra lessons--and from Snape, of all people!--during summer vacation?

"Such as?" Lupin asked.

"Excuse me?" 

"What are these important things you will be doing, Severus?" Lupin asked patiently, his eyes still twinkling.

"Ah...well..." Snape seemed to be frantically trying to come up with something. "I will be helping Branwen brew your potion, for one thing--"

"Perfect," Lupin said cheerfully. "Hermione can watch. I'm sure she won't get in the way."

"Oh no, Professor," Hermione said earnestly. "I won't get in the way, and I'd love to watch you make the potion, if you don't mind."

"Hermione's an excellent student," Lupin said. "Didn't she get the top mark in your third-year Potions class, Severus? I think it would be quite an educational experience for her."

Snape was scowling at him furiously, but Blackmore said, "I think that's a wonderful idea! It's important to instill a love for learning in one's students, don't you think, Severus?"

Snape glared at her for a moment, then sighed wearily and said in a resigned tone, "Yes, Professor Blackmore." He left the table as soon as he finished his dinner, not bothering to stay for dessert, and headed back upstairs. Harry thought he heard Snape mutter under his breath, "It's going to be a long summer..."

Snape stayed for a few days, but remained in his room almost the entire time, except when he was working on the Wolfsbane Potion with Blackmore and Hermione. Hermione, of course, was thrilled to be able to learn about making the potion, even if it meant she had to put up with Snape. And she reported that Professor Blackmore had been quite nice, and explained to Hermione step-by-step what they were doing. Even Snape himself had been reasonably polite, under Blackmore's watchful eye.

Although Lupin had claimed that the potion had been improved, he still seemed to feel some ill effects, because he spent most of his time in his room resting. The children hardly saw either Lupin or Snape except when they came down for meals, during which Snape would snipe at Lupin, who would cheerfully ignore him. Snape left for a couple of days on some important business, which as usual, was "top secret," but he returned on the day of the full moon.

*** 

Snape brushed by the children, ignoring their curious looks, and went upstairs to his room. He locked the door, then opened the door that linked his room to Lupin's and walked in.

Lupin had been lying on the bed, but jumped up as soon as Snape walked in. "Severus!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around his lover. Before Snape could reply, Lupin sealed his mouth with a fervent kiss.

"Well," said Snape, a long moment later, gasping for breath. "It seems you missed me." He gave Lupin a sly smile. "Or should I say, the wolf missed me?"

"We both missed you," Lupin said, grabbing the front of Snape's robes and pulling him close for another hungry kiss.

"Hmm," said Snape; Lupin's sudden show of aggression was unusual, but not unwelcome. Snape found it quite exciting, actually. "Enforced celibacy during the week leading up to the full moon seems to make the wolf more aggressive," he said, as Lupin impatiently fumbled with the fastenings on his robes and the shirt beneath them. "Perhaps I should write to Kamiyama and tell him--"

"Severus, shut up and make love to me," Lupin ordered.

Snape grinned. "Make me," he said.

Lupin kissed him hard and shoved him down on the bed in response. _If he's like this after only a couple of days, I wonder what he'd be like if I stayed away for the whole week?_ Snape wondered. Lupin growled in his ear, and Snape shivered with pleasure. Maybe it would be better not to find out; the wolf might get desperate enough to jump Black--a truly horrifying thought! Snape resolved to make sure he made time to stop by whenever the full moon drew near, in spite of his undercover job and the discomfort the other residents of the house--particularly the children--caused him. But now the wolf was demanding his full attention, and Snape gave up thinking in favor of satisfying his and Lupin's desires.

He spent an exhausting--but very pleasant--afternoon engaging in some truly amazing and athletic sex with his lover. The closeness of the full moon seemed to make Lupin insatiable, but eventually even the wolf was satisfied, and Lupin dozed off. Snape bathed, dressed, and crawled down to the kitchen to fetch some dinner for himself and for Lupin, who would no doubt be hungry after his transformation. 

He was filling two bowls with stew and setting them on a tray, when Mrs. Weasley walked in and said, "Won't you be joining us at the dinner table, Severus?"

"No," Snape said curtly. "I want to...ah...monitor Lupin; he's not feeling well, and I may want to make some adjustments to the potion."

"That's very kind of you, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said, and Snape flushed and scowled at her. He heard a choking noise and saw Ron Weasley standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Ron!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. "That's what happens when you stuff your mouth full of food like that! Now go sit down and eat at the table!" She shooed her son back into the dining room.

Snape sighed with relief and picked up the tray. He started to head back upstairs when he ran into Blackmore. She smiled and said innocently, "Are you feeling all right, Severus? You look quite tired...would you like some help with that tray?"

Snape felt his face flush again. This was why he hated coming back to the house! "No thank you, Branwen," he replied coldly. "I can manage perfectly well on my own."

"Very well," his former teacher said. As Snape started to turn away, she called out, "Severus?"

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm glad you came back," Blackmore said, her voice quiet and serious now. "For Remus's sake. He misses you, you know. He needs your support during his transformations. Not just because of the physical side-effects--" She smiled slightly. "He needs your emotional support as well."

"I know," Snape said gruffly. He knew Lupin wished he would stay at the house more often, and he felt guilty that he didn't. But he didn't feel comfortable carrying on an affair under the same roof as his students. "I'll...I'll try to stop by more often, particularly when the moon is waxing."

"Good," said Blackmore, smiling at him approvingly. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape grunted and headed back upstairs. He was thrilled, really he was, that his favorite teacher was not dead after all, but by Merlin's beard, he wished she would stop interfering in his love life! Fourteen years of being unable to interact with the human world except by watching it in her grandfather's magical scrying pool had turned her into a bit of a voyeur, despite her protests to the contrary. Why couldn't she just remain cold, strict Professor Blackmore? Why did she have to turn out to be a real person, a woman with a strong sense of compassion and a wicked sense of humor...?

*** 

"The Dark Lord is getting impatient with me, Albus," Snape said nervously. When Voldemort had been banished and bodiless, Snape had been brave enough to speak his name aloud, but now that he was resurrected, Snape found himself behaving with what the Headmaster referred to as "superstitious fear". Voldemort had implied to his followers that he could hear when someone spoke his name. Although such power was commonly found in old legends and tales, Snape knew that for the most part it was a myth. The problem was that Voldemort was not most wizards; no one, not even Dumbledore, knew exactly what the Dark Lord could and could not do. And Dumbledore had never been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse cast by Voldemort, while Snape had. So, although he was ashamed of himself for doing so, since returning to the Death Eaters, Snape had been careful not to speak his Master's name out loud.

"He's not satisfied with the tidbits of information we've been feeding him, then?" Dumbledore asked, looking at his Potions Master with concern in his eyes. He knew Snape was under a lot of pressure--being a double agent was more than most people would be able to handle, and on top of that, Dumbledore knew that being parted from Lupin was causing him additional stress. And it probably didn't help that Lupin was now living at Sirius Black's house, along with other members of the Order. The couple was now able to only steal a few moments alone together here and there. Dumbledore would have liked to have given them some time off, but that was simply impossible; Snape was the only member of the Order who could get close to Voldemort, and there were vital tasks for Lupin to perform as well.

"No," Snape replied. "He still doesn't trust me. He wants me to prove myself."

"How?"

"He wants to put an agent of the Ministry on the staff. You know they passed that decree about the Ministry appointing a teacher if you can't find one. And you still haven't filled the DADA position, have you?"

"No," said Dumbledore reluctantly. "Branwen was willing to take it, but I want to keep her presence concealed from Voldemort for now."

"Of course, you could always give it to me," Snape suggested hopefully. 

"But then we would still be one position short, and qualified Potions Masters are hard to come by as well, Severus."

Snape sulked. "I've served you faithfully all these years, haven't I?" he asked resentfully. "Why do you trust Black and not me?"

"If you'll notice, Severus," Dumbledore said dryly, "I haven't given Sirius the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, either. It's not a matter of trust!" He patted Snape on the shoulder and said in a kinder tone, "Of course I trust you, my boy. But isn't it safer if it appears to the outside world that I do not?"

"Oh," said Snape in a small voice, feeling rather stupid. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, well then, about the position..."

Dumbledore sighed. "I hate to give the Ministry a foothold in the school, but even if I can stop them here, they will find another way in eventually. At least this way we'll have some control over it. And I am concerned about your safety, Severus. Very well; I'll inform the Ministry I can't find anyone to fill the position, and you can tell Voldemort that he's outfoxed the old man..."

*** 

Ariane was walking on the estate grounds gathering wildflowers for the dinner table. Math and Goewin had taken Dylan shopping for school supplies, and when they returned, there would be a "surprise" birthday party waiting for him, although she was quite sure that Dylan would not be very surprised. She did have a gift that she hoped would be a pleasant surprise for him, though: his father's ring, which Evan had worn as heir to the now fallen house of Rosier. It was a heavy, ornate silver ring, carved with an intricate design of thorny vines, and set with a red crystal cut to resemble a rose in bloom. Professor Blackmore had sent it back to her after Evan's death, all that was left of him after he killed himself fighting the Aurors; there had not even been a body left to bury, nothing but ashes...and the ring.

She had received the ring, along with a letter that explained the circumstances of Evan's death, and curiously, expressed sorrow over it, from Blackmore shortly before her own mysterious disappearance. Ariane hated Alastor Moody for his part in her lover's death, but strangely enough, she believed that her former teacher had been sincerely remorseful about Evan. Professor Blackmore had kept in touch with her after graduation--although Ariane hadn't told Evan that--and tried to steer her away from Voldemort. But even when it became clear that her arguments were falling on deaf ears, she had still treated Ariane kindly. So Ariane could never really bring herself to hate Blackmore. No point in it anyway, since she was dead... She sighed and looked down at the ring on her finger, a more delicate, feminine version of Evan's ring; it had been his gift to her, an engagement ring. But they had never had the chance to marry; perhaps they should have listened to Professor Blackmore after all...

"Hello, Ariane," said a smooth, silky voice. 

Ariane jumped a little, and looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing in front of her. "Lucius! What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to welcome an old friend?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, Lucius," Ariane lied, " but my uncle has just begun to trust me again, and all the years I have worked to regain that trust will be wasted if he finds you here on his property! So whatever you have to say, be quick about it."

"Very well," Lucius said. "I will get straight to the point. The Dark Lord has returned, Ariane, and he is gathering his old followers to him once more. Of course," he added, pointedly staring at her arm, "you never took the Mark, so you would not have heard his call."

"That was at Evan's insistence," she said coolly. "And a good thing too, or I and my unborn child would have been sent to Azkaban." She had not forgotten that Lucius had not lifted a finger to help her.

"I knew your family would not allow you to be sent to prison," Lucius said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Otherwise, I would of course have intervened."

"Of course," Ariane said, still in that cool voice.

"But for Evan's sake, will you join us now?"

"I cannot leave the estate without my uncle's permission, and he is too powerful a mage for me to defy," Ariane said, trying to put him off without offending him too much. This was all happening too fast, she wasn't ready for this...

"When the Dark Lord takes his rightful place, you will be a prisoner no longer," Lucius said. "And you will no longer be enslaved to that foolish old man. Providing, of course, that you prove your loyalty."

"My betrothed sacrificed his life for the Dark Lord's cause; is that not proof enough?" Ariane asked, being careful to keep up a haughty demeanor and prevent any of the fear she felt from showing on her face.

"The Dark Lord remembers those who were loyal, and fell in his service," Lucius said with a smile that was not one bit reassuring. "He is eager to reward Evan's son for his father's loyalty."

Ariane felt the cold chill of fear flow like ice through her veins. "Dylan is too young to become a Death Eater!" she said in a shrill voice.

"Not now," Lucius said calmly. "But soon. I accept that you cannot leave the estate...for now. But it can be arranged for Dylan to slip away from Hogwarts when it becomes necessary. Draco was very disappointed that his friend could not come to visit this summer."

"My mother," Ariane said desperately, "she would not allow it. And she is the head of the Donner family--"

"But your Uncle Mathias has taken over Dylan's care, has he not? Or rather, your lovely young Aunt Goewin has. She has just filed the official documents naming Dylan her heir with the Ministry." He laughed at the expression on Ariane's face. "Really, Ariane, did you think I would not find out? I work there, you know. Not in the clerical department, of course, but I hear things... It's all very nice for Dylan, of course, but he can rule so much more than a small country estate in Wales if he chooses the right master..."

"Evan died!" Ariane snapped. "And Dylan and I have spent the last fourteen years in exile! I will not risk my freedom and my son's life without some guarantee that things will turn out better this time than they did the last!"

"Ever the fence-sitter, Ariane," Lucius sneered. "Just like Snape's family. Be careful you don't wait too long before you pick which side to join, or it may be too late."

Ariane wanted to ask Lucius if Snape had returned to the fold, but she wasn't sure she could believe anything he said, so she didn't bother. She fought to remain calm, and smiled at Lucius in a conciliatory fashion. "Dylan is still a boy now; later, perhaps, when he is ready to take on a man's responsibility..."

"There are things Draco could teach him, things I could teach him, to prepare him for that day," Lucius said in a silky voice.

"I am no mean mage myself," Ariane said coolly. "I have tutored him quite...extensively. You will not find his education lacking in any area."

Lucius smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to see you have not completely neglected your duties, Ariane."

Ariane stared back at him coldly. "Tell me, Lucius, are you so eager to hand your own son over to the Dark Lord? When will you let Draco take the Mark?"

"Soon, Ariane," Lucius said, just as coldly. "Draco will do his duty as a Malfoy, and accept the risks that go along with it."

For once, Ariane believed him; there was no fear, no fatherly concern in Lucius Malfoy's cold face. She believed that he really would hand his own son over to the Dark Lord without a second thought, and for a moment she pitied the boy, foolish and arrogant though Dylan claimed he was. But she had her own son to protect, and could not spare any of her time or energy to worry about someone else's. "I will keep your words in mind, Lucius. But you had better go now; Math will be back soon."

Lucius bowed in a courtly, if ironic, manner and said, "Think very carefully about what I said, Ariane."

"I will, Lucius," she replied, and he Disapparated, leaving her alone once more. She returned to the house, shaking with fear. If she told Math what had happened, he could use his powers to protect Dylan...but what if Lucius was right? If the Dark Lord did triumph in the end, she did not want to burn all her bridges behind her. Severus was in a better position to protect Dylan and delay his entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters, if she could find a way to ensure his cooperation. She had an idea of how to go about it, but it would take some investigation and careful planning on her part...

*** 

"Ariane Donner is proving to be more reluctant than I would have thought, my Lord," Lucius said, in a private meeting with Voldemort. "Motherly love has made her soft; I think she fears Dylan's life will be endangered if he joins us."

"Disappointing," Voldemort said. "She would have been an asset, and I had hopes for Evan's son..."

"I think she may yet be reasoned with, my Lord."

"Perhaps. Severus says the son is talented, but guarded, not giving any indication one way or the other whether he wishes to follow in his father's footsteps."

"The mother's influence, no doubt; she is one of those who sits on the fence, waiting to see which side will come out ahead. But Draco thinks he can bring Dylan over to our side."

"I hope our two wayward sheep will come back to the fold, Lucius, but I have a contingency plan in mind in case they do not. But I will need Severus's help to put it into motion. I still do not completely trust him, and it will give him a chance to further prove himself..."

*** 

"I am pleased with you, Severus," said Voldemort. "Dumbledore has agreed to accept our choice of candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. It will put us in an excellent position to gain control of the school."

Snape bowed low. "I am always eager to serve you, my Lord."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Because I have another task for you. I want you to brew a Mind Restoration Potion."

Snape was startled. "B-but my Lord, that potion has only a temporary effect, and some of the ingredients are very rare and difficult to obtain--"

Voldemort glared at him. "Did I ask you to tell me what I already know?" he asked in a cold voice.

"No, Master," Snape whispered, falling to his knees.

The Dark Lord seemed mollified by his show of humility. "I will provide you with all you need, Severus." He made a beckoning gesture with one hand, and Wormtail crept forward with a small casket. He set it on the ground in front of Snape and lifted the lid. Inside were the rare ingredients the potion required--enough to make about six doses, as well as a number of gold Galleons, presumably to purchase the remaining ingredients, which were less rare, but still expensive.

"Thank you, Master," Snape said, bowing to the Dark Lord again. "I will not fail you." 

He wanted to ask Voldemort what he wanted the potion for, but decided that probably would not be a good idea. And he was very glad he had not asked, because a moment later, Wormtail asked eagerly, "What is the potion for, Master?"

"When I want you to know something, Wormtail," Voldemort said angrily, "I will tell you!" He lifted his wand, and Wormtail fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"Mercy, Master! I'm sorry, please forgive me, mercy!" Wormtail screamed as he groveled at Voldemort's feet.

"I have no mercy, and only fools and weaklings expect any!" Voldemort snarled, and let Wormtail writhe in pain for a few minutes more, just to prove his point. Finally, he ended the spell and asked his assembled Death Eaters, "Does anyone else have any questions?"

They all uttered hasty and fervent demurrals, and Voldemort dismissed them.

*** 

Snape was telling his fellow Order members of Voldemort's latest request. "What's a Mind Restoration Potion?" Tonks asked curiously.

"It is a healing potion," Snape explained, "that can undo magical damage inflicted upon the mind--for example, restore the mind of someone whose wits have been addled after being hit with one too many Memory Charm spells."

"Like Bertha Jorkins?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a musing tone. "Or Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "However, the effects are only temporary--it cannot permanently heal the patient's mind. Also, most of the ingredients required to make it are extremely rare and expensive, and on top of that, it is very difficult to make and takes over a month to brew. Thus, it is hardly ever used, since the expense and effort of making it usually outweigh the benefits."

"But you're able to make this potion?" Tonks asked.

"Of course," Snape said haughtily, sounding offended that she would even ask.

Lupin frowned, looking worried. "Do you know what--or perhaps I should say who--he wants this potion for, Severus?"

"No, I do not."

"Didn't you ask?" Sirius said, scowling. "Isn't that your job, Snape, to find out what old Voldie's up to?"

"I know better than to ask the Dark Lord for information that he does not want to share, Black," Snape replied in a condescending tone that clearly said he thought Black was an imbecile. "Your old friend Pettigrew did ask the Dark Lord that very same question, though, and was punished for his impertinence with a Cruciatus Curse."

"The information you have brought us is still very valuable," Blackmore interjected, giving both Snape and Sirius a quelling look.

"And of course we wouldn't want you to put your life at risk, Severus," Lupin added.

"My life is already at risk, Lupin," Snape pointed out in that same patronizing tone he had used with Sirius, but flushed a little at the wounded look in Lupin's eyes. He cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject. "Of course, I can only speculate as to what the Dark Lord wants the potion for, but it seems possible that he might be intending to break some of his imprisoned Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Their minds will likely be damaged after so many years of close contact with the Dementors." His black eyes flickered over to give Sirius a significant look; Sirius glared at him. "Perhaps he wants the potion to aid in their recovery," Snape continued, "or at least make them sane long enough to carry out some task for him. The potion cannot, however, restore even temporarily the mind of someone who has undergone the Dementor's Kiss."

Sirius was still glaring at Snape. "Is it really wise for you to brew this potion for your Dark Lord if he intends to use it set more Death Eaters loose on the world?"

"As I said, we don't know for sure that's what he intends, Black," Snape retorted. "But no doubt, even if it isn't, he has some equally nefarious plan in mind. However, I have no choice but to brew the potion; if I refuse, he will surely kill me." He gave Black a humorless smile and said sarcastically, "And it is, as you pointed out, my job to gather information from 'old Voldie'. I can hardly gather any information if I'm dead."

Shacklebolt sighed wearily; the constant sniping between Black and Snape was getting rather old; he didn't know how Remus and Branwen put up with it on a regular basis. "The information does help," he said aloud. "As an Auror, I can make some quiet inquiries and check on the security at Azkaban. Perhaps I can arrange for some precautions to be taken."

"Very good," Blackmore said approvingly. "Does anyone have any further questions, or any new business to report?" No one did, so the meeting was adjourned.

The wizards rose from their seats and began to disperse. Snape called out in his usual overbearing manner, "One moment, Lupin! I need to speak with you in private."

"As you wish, Severus," Lupin said meekly. "Shall we go upstairs, then?"

The two wizards left the room together, and Shacklebolt looked after them curiously. "I wonder what project Dumbledore has them working on, that's so top-secret that they can't discuss it with the rest of us?"

Sirius scowled, and Blackmore suddenly had a coughing fit. "Are you all right, Branwen?" Shacklebolt asked solicitously, as he thumped her on the back. "Ouch!" he exclaimed as Bane pecked his hand sharply. "What was that for?" he asked the raven indignantly.

Tonks giggled. "I think Bane thinks you're getting fresh with Branwen!"

Shacklebolt was very glad that his dark skin prevented his sudden blush from showing on his face. "Of course I wasn't 'getting fresh,' I was only trying to help her--" he spluttered.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was handing Blackmore a glass of water. The witch gratefully took the glass and gulped it down. "Ah, thank you, Molly; that really helped." She left the room, chuckling to herself, and Bane shot Shacklebolt one last suspicious look from his perch on his mistress's shoulder. Sirius followed her, looking rather peevish.

"So do you have any idea what Remus and Snape are working on, Sirius?" Tonks asked.

"Believe me," Sirius said darkly, "you don't want to know!"

*** 

Snape stayed for dinner after the Order meeting and his private conference with Lupin, much to Harry's dismay. But it made Professor Blackmore happy; she seemed fond of him for some reason that Harry couldn't comprehend. Hermione believed that it was because Snape, along with Lupin and Sirius, provided a link to her past, whatever that meant. But perhaps Hermione was right, because she did seem to get a bit nostalgic that evening over dinner. And Snape, while he was never really nice to her, treated his former teacher with more respect than Harry had ever seen him show anyone else. He seemed to be almost in a good mood that evening, perhaps because he and Blackmore were comparing detention punishments.

"Yes, bedpan-scrubbing is quite an effective punishment," Blackmore was saying.

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Forcing the students to use a toothbrush was a nice touch." There was an admiring tone to his voice, and Ron scowled, because Snape had once inflicted that very punishment on him.

"Very nice," Blackmore said with a wicked grin, looking almost as scary as Snape, despite the fact that she was considerably prettier than the sallow-faced, greasy-haired Potions Master. "Do you remember the time Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe decided to summon a water elemental as a prank?"

Harry was startled, thinking for a moment that she was talking about his classmates, then realized she must be talking about their fathers.

"Oh yes," Snape said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. "As I seem to recall, they were planning to flood Gryffindor Tower. But they got the water-elemental summoning spell mixed up with the spell to summon an earth elemental--"

"And summoned up instead a creature made of mud," Blackmore finished. 

"And of course those two idiots were unable to control it," Snape continued. "There was mud splattered all over the dungeon! Professor De Lacy was furious."

"So furious that he agreed to turn the miscreants over to me." Blackmore smiled in a positively evil way. "I made them scrub the dungeon clean with toothbrushes. Very handy thing, toothbrushes; they went through several pairs before they were done. After that, it was back to scrubbing bedpans for a month. I don't think either of them ever wanted to see a toothbrush again after their detention was finally over!"

"That would explain Crabbe's bad breath," Sirius muttered to himself. 

Snape ignored him, saying, "Although I am rather fond of disemboweling horned toads as a punishment..."

"Mm, yes, but what about stewing slugs...?"

Ron groaned softly, "As if he wasn't bad enough on his own, she's got to go and give him more ideas..."

Snape left directly after dinner, to the children's relief, and things returned to normal. But later that night, Harry felt restless for some reason, and couldn't sleep even after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. He wandered downstairs, thinking maybe he might go to the kitchen for a snack. He saw a light on in the drawing room and peeked through the open door. Branwen Blackmore was sitting on the sofa; there was a chess set laid out on the coffee table in front of her. There was no one on the opposite side of the chess board except for Bane, who was perched on the table. Blackmore moved a piece, and Harry watched in fascination as Bane cocked his head to one side, as if pondering the situation, then nudged a pawn forward with his beak.

"Can he really play chess?" Harry asked.

Blackmore looked up and smiled at him. "Yes, he's very clever."

"Does he ever win?"

"Not usually; it would be rather humiliating to lose to a bird, wouldn't it?" She laughed as Bane made an indignant croaking noise, then reached over to scratch his head affectionately. He hunkered down to accept her caress, but still looked a bit sulky.

There was something Harry had been wanting to ask her, but he had been too intimidated to approach her, and anyway she always seemed to be busy with Order business. But she was alone, smiling at him in a friendly way, and apparently had nothing better to do than play chess with her familiar. "Professor Blackmore? You said you taught my father when he was at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," she replied, looking more serious.

"What was he like?" Harry asked eagerly.

Blackmore looked a little uncomfortable. "Well...he was a very clever lad, but very mischievous as well. He and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew were always getting into trouble together. Remus was better behaved, but often they would drag him into their escapades, which I admit made me rather cross at times. I was fond of Remus, and didn't like seeing him get into trouble because of his friends. I gave your father detention many times, and I'm afraid he didn't like me very much. But that wasn't really unusual; most of my students were terrified of me, much as you and your friends now seem to be a little afraid of Professor Snape." She smiled again, looking a little mischievous herself. "I suppose I must take some of the blame for that; I seem to have been more of an influence on Severus than I originally thought..."

Harry didn't want to hear about Snape; he wanted to hear about his father. "Um, yes," he said, trying not to sound too impatient, "but about my father...?"

"I didn't really know him very well outside of class," Blackmore said, somewhat evasively. "I'm sure Remus or Sirius could tell you more. But I do know that he was head over heels in love with your mother, almost from the time they both entered Hogwarts. One of the many detentions I gave him was for passing a note to her during class. Lily was a lovely girl--kind, smart, independent--not unlike Hermione, come to think of it." She laughed at the startled expression on Harry's face. "Everyone says you look like your father, Harry, but I see a great deal of Lily in you, too--your eyes are very like her. And you are a great deal like her in spirit as well."

Harry listened raptly as Blackmore praised his mother, describing how well she had adjusted to life at Hogwarts despite coming from a Muggle background; not only had she done well academically and socially, but she had dealt with the usual anti-Muggle prejudice and managed to keep both her dignity and her temper. But finally she said, "It's getting late, Harry. Perhaps you should go to bed; Bane and I will be retiring soon as well."

Harry reluctantly stood and bid her goodnight as she packed away the chess set. It was only after he got to his bedroom that he realized she had very neatly steered the conversation away from his father. She seemed to know a great deal about his mother, Sirius, and Lupin, so Harry didn't quite believe that she knew as little about his father as she claimed. Was there something about his father that she felt Harry shouldn't know? Or did she just dislike him? After all, she clearly liked Snape, who had hated Harry's father. But on the other hand, she liked Lupin and Sirius, whom Snape also hated. Professor Blackmore was such a mysterious woman--perhaps this was just one more mystery that would never be solved, such as where she had disappeared to for fourteen years; her brief explanation at dinner when Harry had first arrived at Grimmauld Place had raised more questions than it had answered...

*** 

Soon it was time to go back to school. Sirius insisted on accompanying Harry to the train station in his dog form. Both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione clearly thought that was a bad idea, but the only people Sirius might have listened to were gone: Lupin had gone ahead with Fred, George, and Ginny, and Professor Blackmore had disappeared on some mysterious errand the night before. So 'Snuffles' joined them on their walk to King's Cross, and Harry laughed as Sirius acted very dog-like, barking happily as he snapped at pigeons and chased his own tail; he had been trapped inside that grim old house too long.

But Harry had second thoughts when he encountered Draco Malfoy on the train. "Well, watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line," the blond-haired boy said maliciously.

Harry exchanged a nervous look with Hermione. Was it just his imagination, or had Malfoy slightly stressed the word "dogging"? Had Draco's father seen Sirius on the platform and guessed the truth? Which would mean that not only was he aware that Sirius was in London, but that the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody knew where he was hiding? Had Sirius not only just gotten himself in trouble, but his friends as well? Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...

*** 

Snape was beginning to question the wisdom of allowing a Ministry agent to join the staff, despite the fact that it had been done at his urging. The Umbridge woman looked like a toad--a fluffy pink toad in that ridiculous cardigan--and he knew that she was the one who had been behind the anti-werewolf legislation that made it almost impossible for Lupin to get work. Professor Kamiyama gotten him some translation jobs from overseas, and of course Snape would never have let his lover starve, but he was still angry. And despite the fact that Snape gave him new robes every Christmas and birthday, Lupin insisted on wearing his shabby, patched robes in public. He said he didn't want people to wonder why he was suddenly so well-off; it would make them suspicious. But Lupin shouldn't have to wear rags in public; he should be wearing robes as handsome and glorious as he himself was...

But Snape's thoughts were interrupted by the Sorting Hat's song. This year, the song was different; the Hat sang about the four founders of Hogwarts, and the discord that had driven Salazar Slytherin away. It sang of what Branwen Blackmore had said she always feared, that the division between the Houses would lead to Hogwarts', and perhaps the entire wizarding world's, downfall:

...Listen closely to my song  
Though condemned I am to split you  
Still I worry that it's wrong,  
Though I must fulfill my duty  
And must quarter every year  
Still I wonder whether sorting  
May not bring the end I fear.  
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
The warning history shows,  
For our Hogwarts is in danger  
From external, deadly foes  
And we must unite inside her  
Or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
Let the Sorting now begin.

Snape felt a chill run down his spine. Was the Hat right? Had Branwen been right all along? _Maybe she had the right idea, with her exercise in inter-House cooperation,_ Snape thought. But that experiment had failed miserably, thanks to Black's cruelty and Snape's stubbornness, and thanks to the Donner family's prejudice and Lucius Malfoy's manipulation of Evan and Ariane...

Snape's misgivings about Umbridge were increased tenfold when she interrupted the Headmaster's opening speech. No one-- _no one_ \--ever interrupted Dumbledore! Most of the students' eyes glazed over as Umbridge droned on, and they paid no attention to her speech, but Snape noticed that both Dylan Rosier and Hermione Granger looked thoughtful and concerned. It figured that his two star pupils would be able to discern the deeper meaning behind Umbridge's seemingly innocuous speech. Snape sighed to himself; this was going to be a long school year...

*** 

Snape lectured his fifth-year Potions class on the importance of passing their O.W.L.s. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are," he said, "I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my...displeasure." He let his gaze linger on Longbottom, who gulped and turned pale. Maybe fear would spur Mr. Longbottom on into getting a passing grade, though Snape doubted it. Snape shook his head slightly; the boy had better hope that he never encountered the Dark Lord--he would probably turn into a puddle of jelly if Voldemort so much as glanced at him.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." Many of his students looked relieved, including Potter, and Snape felt his lip curl into a sneer; the feeling was quite mutual on Snape's part as well. "But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape said in a soft, sarcastic voice, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

Miss Granger looked eager to prove herself, and no doubt she would pass her O.W.L. with flying colors and apply to his N.E.W.T. class. Snape wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed. She really was his best student among the fifth-years--among all his students, to be honest, except perhaps for Dylan Rosier--but her chipper, know-it-all Gryffindor manner put him off. He never praised her no matter how well she did, because he couldn't stand the thought of praising a Gryffindor student, particularly one who was a friend of Harry Potter, but that seemed to put her off not at all; if anything, she worked even harder. Snape sighed to himself. If only she had been sorted into Slytherin, he could have awarded points to his House, and given her the praise she deserved, and taken both her and Dylan under his wing and perhaps steered them into Potions as a career... But his students were looking at him expectantly, so he shook himself out of his reverie, and gave them their assignment: to brew the Draught of Peace.

Snape felt slightly more cheerful when Potter botched his potion; he had forgotten to add the hellebore. "Evanesco," Snape said gleefully, tapping Potter's cauldron with his wand, and the potion disappeared, which meant zero marks for Mr. Potter. He ordered the rest of his students to leave a sample of their potions on his desk, gave out their homework assignment, and dismissed them. Weasley and Potter glared at him on their way out, and Miss Granger gave him a quick, disappointed look that was much like the ones Lupin gave him when he felt Snape was being unfair. It made Snape feel small and petty, which in turn annoyed the hell out of him. 

_Don't expect me to turn into a creature of sweetness and light just because I have joined the Order, Miss Granger,_ he thought coldly. _It hasn't changed my feelings towards Mr. Potter and his little friends._ His conscience was stirring uneasily, though, and to quell it he added, _Besides, Draco would find it suspicious if I suddenly started treating Potter fairly, and he would report it to his father, who would in turn report it to the Dark Lord..._ He shuddered slightly, remembering the Cruciatus Curse the Dark Lord had placed on him as punishment for not answering the summons on the night of the Tournament. And that was actually the punishment that Snape feared least; there were far more terrible things that Voldemort could do to someone who betrayed him...yes, keeping the Dark Lord's suspicions lulled was a very good idea, indeed...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Branwen, Sirius, and Lupin find themselves getting on each other's nerves while Snape is away at Hogwarts; Snape returns for Christmas at Grimmauld Plac

Snape was walking through the classroom as he always did, checking on his students' progress, and stopped by Potter's desk. To his disappointment, Potter seemed to be brewing his potion in an adequate fashion, and he was oddly subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes; perhaps he was too tired to be his usual impertinent self--Snape had heard that Umbridge had given him detention the past couple of nights. Then Snape froze in place as he caught sight of Potter's right hand. The sleeve of Potter's robe pulled back slightly as he reached for an ingredient, and Snape caught sight of the words, "I must not tell lies" etched into the boy's skin as if with a knife, still raw and red. 

He was a former Death Eater and the son of wizards who practiced the Dark Arts, but the sight disturbed him deeply. It was a particularly twisted, sadistic kind of punishment...the kind Snape's father would have enjoyed--except that he was careful never to leave a physical mark on his son. That would have been crude and careless, and might have attracted unwanted attention, especially once the Headmaster had taken an interest in young Severus Snape... 

Crude though it was, the malice behind that punishment made Snape shudder a little, and then it made him angry. He remembered what it was like to be young and helpless, at the mercy of adults, and the idea of a teacher abusing her position to torture a student made him absolutely furious.

 _Isn't that sort of like the pot calling the kettle black?_ the sarcastic little voice in his head asked.

 _It's not the same thing!_ Snape protested, although he felt a little twinge of guilt. All right, yes, he did torment his students at times--but only the incompetent ones, and it was all for a good cause. Really. He was teaching them to be strong, for the weak would fall before Voldemort. And yes, he treated them unfairly at times--all right, most times!--but the world would not treat them fairly either, and it was better they learned that in the safety of the classroom than out on the battlefield in the middle of a war. The enemy would give no mercy, show no quarter; the enemy would not play fairly, he would use whatever weapons he had at his disposal, which would include psychological warfare. He would strike at their insecurities and fears, ferret out their most secret and selfish desires; he would bully, taunt, seduce--do whatever he must to destroy or corrupt them. So Snape had to make them strong enough to resist him.

 _You're a regular saint,_ the voice said, still in that same sarcastic tone.

And Snape had never, ever physically harmed a student. He might shout and berate, and assign particularly loathsome forms of detention (scrubbing bedpans, skinning and gutting slimy creatures), but he had never struck a student, nor used magic to inflict pain on one.

(Of course, it never occurred to Snape--who had grown up with a rather warped view of what was considered "normal"--that psychological abuse might be just as harmful as physical abuse, maybe even more so. Lupin, if he had been present, might have pointed that out to him, but Lupin was not present, and likely Snape would not have listened to him anyway.)

Potter glanced up at him warily, and Snape continued his sweep of the classroom, but he was distracted by what he had just seen, and didn't even notice that Longbottom's potion had turned a bilious shade of green when it was supposed to be blue, and Longbottom stared at his teacher with an expression of mingled shock and relief on his face.

 _What do you care, anyway?_ the sarcastic little voice asked. _You hate Potter._

 _Yes, but..._ Snape was unable to come up with a good reply. Yes, it was true that he hated Potter, and that he had come close to wringing the brat's neck more than once. But he had restrained himself, because teachers were not allowed to murder their students, no matter how infuriating they might be, and because it was quite likely that Potter was the only person in the world with the power to defeat Voldemort. _God help us all,_ Snape said to himself sourly at the thought of the fate of the world resting in the hands of that irresponsible brat. 

But Snape wondered why Potter had apparently not complained about his punishment to either McGonagall or Dumbledore; surely the Headmaster would have put a stop to it if he had known about it, even if Umbridge was a Ministry agent. He thought of all the hours Potter must have spent in detention, with those words cutting into his hand over and over again, and felt a grudging respect for the boy's determination--or perhaps it was merely stubbornness. But for whatever reason, he had not gone whining to the Headmaster about it, as Snape would have thought he would.

 _It's the principle of the thing,_ Snape finally told his inner voice. _It doesn't matter whether it's Potter or not; no one should do such a thing to a child._ He sat at his desk brooding for the rest of the period, the brief sight of Potter's hand calling up unpleasant memories of himself as a child, writhing and screaming in pain as his father inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on him as punishment for some real or perceived transgression.

Later, in his office, Snape sat staring at a jar of healing salve on his desk. It would ease the pain of the cuts on Potter's hand and prevent a scar from forming, but Snape would rather die than be caught showing Potter even an ounce of sympathy.

There was a knock at the door and Snape growled, "Come in!"

The door swung open a crack and a house-elf walked in, bearing a tray filled with letters, and timidly said, "Mail delivery, sir."

Since the elf was wearing clothing--a sweater and mismatched socks in particularly ugly shades of violet and yellow--Snape realized it must be Dobby, the house-elf Potter had freed from the Malfoys' service; Lucius had been furious about that. Most of the school house-elves did their work quietly without ever letting the staff and students see them, but freedom had gone to Dobby's head, and he had become bold enough to walk about openly, although he was still shy and subservient by human standards. Still, that might come in handy, especially considering the fact that he worshipped the ground Potter walked on...

"Set the letters over there on that shelf," Snape ordered. "I'll look at them later." As the elf obeyed, Snape picked up the jar and began fiddling with it, tossing it up into the air and then catching it with one hand. He said in a musing tone, as if talking to himself, "I'll bet Potter could really use this healing salve for his hand." Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Dobby's oversized ears prick up. _Good, he took the bait._ Then Snape cackled in a nasty tone, "Too bad for him I'll never give it to him!" He rose from his desk and shoved the jar onto a cluttered shelf behind his desk, where it was barely noticeable among all the other jars and bottles. Then he turned to the elf and said in his best imitation of Lucius Malfoy's overbearing manner, "I'm retiring for the evening. As long as you're here, clean up my office; I'll expect it to be spotless tomorrow morning." Without waiting for a reply, he left, slamming the door behind him. 

Snape went back to his office an hour later, figuring that the elf would surely be gone by then. The office was not only clean and spotless, but the jar of healing salve had vanished. Snape grinned; his conscience was soothed without anyone being the wiser. Then he frowned, as something suddenly occurred to him. Could Dobby have stolen the gillyweed from his office last year for Potter? Potter had kept proclaiming his innocence, which meant nothing, but the Headmaster had seemed to believe him, although he did tend to be soft on the boy. Snape's office was warded with spells to keep out intruders, but the house-elves had free reign of the school since they were the ones who cleaned it, usually after hours when everyone was asleep. Snape locked his office and went back to his quarters, scowling to himself as he thought that he might have to broaden the warding spells to keep out house-elves as well...

*** 

"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry looked up from the textbook he'd been reading. "Dobby! What are you doing here?"

"Dobby has something for Harry Potter!" The elf grinned and handed him a small jar.

Harry read the label. "Healing salve?" His hand was throbbing after another night of detention in Umbridge's office. "I can really use this; thanks, Dobby!" The elf beamed with pride, then suddenly a thought occurred to Harry. "Er...where did you get this, Dobby? From Madam Pomfrey?"

Dobby looked nervous. "Perhaps it's better if Harry Potter doesn't ask."

Harry had a bad feeling about this. "You didn't steal it from Professor Snape's office, did you?"

"He won't notice, sir. There were lots of jars on the shelf, and Dobby rearranged them to make it look as if nothing was missing--"

Harry groaned, remembering how Snape had accused him of breaking into his office last year.

Dobby's face fell. "Dobby did a bad thing?" He began banging his head against the wall. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"No, Dobby, stop, it's okay, really!" Harry said hastily. "You're right, he'll never notice!" Harry wasn't so sure about that, but he couldn't stand to see Dobby punish himself, and he did owe the house-elf for getting him the gillyweed, even if it had gotten Harry into trouble with Snape later. Well, if he was going to get in trouble for it, he might as well make use of the salve, Harry decided. He opened the jar and smeared some of the thick white cream across the back of his hand. It felt cool and soothing, and immediately eased his pain; perhaps it was worth the risk, and hopefully Snape wouldn't notice the loss of one small jar. He sighed and said gratefully, "Thanks, Dobby."

The house-elf stopped pounding his head on the wall and grinned happily at Harry. "Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter!"

*** 

"You're less like your father than I thought," Sirius was saying coolly to Harry from the fireplace. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look--" Harry protested.

Sirius didn't want to hear it; maybe he was being childish, but he felt like he was being abandoned. Everyone was running around doing various tasks for the Order; he didn't even have Moony's company lately: the werewolf had gone to Japan to meet with Professor Kamiyama and some of his colleagues to try and persuade the Japanese wizarding community to join them in their fight against Voldemort. The Dark Lord had not yet extended his reach to Asia, and most of the Japanese wizards were reluctant to risk themselves in a war that they felt had nothing to do with them. It was Lupin's task to convince them that Voldemort would not be content merely to conquer Britain and Europe, that if they did not stop him now, the Dark Lord would one day take his war to the Far East--and when that day came, all their Western allies would be dead and unable to aid them. It was an important mission, but it left Sirius feeling more lonely and useless than ever. He had hoped to alleviate some of that loneliness by going to Hogsmeade in dog form to visit his godson, but Harry was insisting that it was "too dangerous". The boy was too young to be sounding so responsible--he was starting to sound like Molly Weasley, for God's sake!

"Well, I'd better be going," Sirius said, unable to keep a hint of disgruntlement from creeping into his voice. "I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs. I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

Sirius pulled his head out of the fireplace, and behind him, a woman's voice said sharply, "Sirius Black! What do you think you're doing?!"

Sirius turned around to see his former teacher standing over him, arms crossed and scowling, as if she'd just caught a student breaking the rules at Hogwarts. Sirius forced himself not to cringe, and to keep up a casual demeanor as he dusted ashes from his palms and hair. He was no longer a child but an adult, by God, and he was not going to act like a schoolboy about to get detention! "Oh hello, Branwen," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "I was just having a little chat with Harry."

"Have you lost your mind, Mr. Black?" Blackmore asked, glaring at him. "What if one of Harry's classmates, or worse, teachers, had seen you in the fire?"

Sirius gave her his most charming smile. "'Mr. Black'? Whatever happened to 'we're all colleagues now, let's call each other by our first names'?"

"When you revert to childish behavior," Blackmore said coldly, "I suppose I also revert to old habits and call you by the name I used when you were a student."

Sirius scowled. "Now see here! I'm not a child anymore--"

"Then stop acting like one!" his former teacher retorted. "You know how closely the Ministry is monitoring Dumbledore and his allies! Did you ever stop to think that Harry would be in trouble if he were caught talking to you? Do you not recall how he was nearly expelled this summer? Not to mention the trouble you could cause for Albus--"

"Dumbledore can take care of himself," Sirius said dismissively.

"Dumbledore is this close to getting sacked!" shouted Blackmore, holding her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "He is on very thin ice with the Ministry, and they will use any excuse they can to get rid of him! I think that aiding and abetting an escaped murderer would fall under that category! And if Dumbledore is fired, the entire school and all the students will be in danger!" Bane seemed to be picking up on his mistress's agitation, and cawed angrily at Sirius from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder.

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Professor," Sirius said, pointedly calling her by her title instead of her name.

"And you are doing your godson a disservice, Sirius," Blackmore said quietly.

"What are you talking about?!" Sirius snapped.

"Molly is right, you're treating him as if he were James--"

"And what's wrong with that?" Sirius demanded. "He's a lot like his father, or at least I thought he was up until tonight..."

"What's wrong is that he's _not_ James, he's Harry!" Blackmore shouted, looking frustrated, as if Sirius were a student who couldn't seem to grasp a very simple, basic concept. "You should love him for himself, not as a substitute for James!"

"That's not what I said!" Sirius shouted back, getting rather hot under the collar himself. "And you have no right to talk to me this way, you're not my teacher anymore--"

"I have a right as your colleague to point out when you're behaving like an idiot!" Blackmore shrieked. Sirius was a bit taken aback. He had seen her angry before, seen her terrorize her students, seen her shout at him and Snape during the summer when she got irritated with their constant bickering, but she had always remained slightly aloof and in control of her emotions; he had never seen her lose her temper like this before. "For one thing, Harry is a child, not an adult! He's your ward, not your friend; it's your job as his godfather to protect him, not put him in danger!"

"You and Molly are too overprotective; Harry's tougher than you think--"

"He's had to endure things that no child should, and dealt with them admirably, but that doesn't mean that he should be subjected to unnecessary risk! For another thing, Harry is not a duplicate of his father--he's his own person! Yes, there is a great deal of James in him, but also a great deal of Lily--and there is a part of him that is neither James nor Lily, but simply Harry. He's led a life that's completely different from the one James led, endured hardships that James never had to; that has made him less confident but more compassionate--"

"You've never liked James!" Sirius accused. "You've always hated him! Is it because he--we--used to pick on Snape? You've always made excuses for that greasy git, even when he became a Death Eater, but you won't cut James the slightest bit of slack even now that he's dead--"

"Is that what you think, Sirius?" Blackmore asked quietly, apparently having calmed down a little. She gave him a strange, somehow measuring look, as if she were trying to read his thoughts. "I didn't hate James, though I was disappointed in him. For the most part he was a good man; he was brave and loyal, and kind to most people. Few people would have been willing to befriend a werewolf, but he never gave it a second thought. But he had his faults as well, Sirius. And yes, one of them was his casual cruelty towards Severus. He never once stopped to think about how Severus might feel, never realized how much pain he inflicted on him--"

"That's not fair!" Sirius protested. "Yeah, okay, we picked on Snape, and maybe we were out of line a few times, but don't forget Snape attacked us as well! It was Snape who threw the first hex at James back in second year--"

"In a way, you are right, Sirius," Blackmore interrupted, still in that quiet voice. "I did 'cut more slack,' as you put it, for Severus. But that was because Severus had a very difficult childhood, had seen very few examples of kindness and compassion." 

Sirius had no idea what she was talking about. He knew the Snapes were snooty, wealthy purebreds not unlike the Malfoys, but he didn't know what about Snape's childhood might have been especially "difficult". 

Blackmore didn't stop to explain, but continued, "I expected more of James because he should have known better. He was raised in a loving family, one that taught him right from wrong, one that taught him to be kind and open-minded. And for the most part he was; he had no prejudice against those of Muggle blood, and as his friendship with Remus proved, no prejudice even against werewolves, creatures that most wizards despise and fear. But he had one very big blind spot: he hated anything to do with the Dark Arts, which meant that he hated all Slytherins. I told you once, Sirius, that the worst fault of the Gryffindors is that they see things as black and white. That is a very simplistic view of the world; there are a myriad shades of gray between black and white. He could not believe that a wizard might be interested in the Dark Arts without being wholly evil. He could not conceive that someone might be neither good nor evil, but something in between. The reason he could be so cruel to Severus and never regret it, never even see the harm he was doing, is because he didn't really see Severus as a human being, a person worthy of being treated with compassion, or even courtesy. Severus was fascinated by the Dark Arts, so James decided that must mean he was evil, and therefore worthy only of contempt."

"You make James sound so...so..." Sirius struggled to find the right word, still angry, but also a little uneasy, because something deep inside of him suspected she was right.

"He was a human being, Sirius, who had his flaws, as we all do." Blackmore sighed. "Part of the problem, I think, stemmed from the fact that everything came to him easily. He was born into a loving, wealthy, well-respected family; he had a natural talent for both academics and Quidditch; he had a charming personality that enabled him to make friends with ease. It's not his fault that he was blessed with such good fortune, of course, but it made it difficult for him to empathize with someone like Severus. Perhaps that is why Remus could see something in Severus that you others could not; he knew what it was like to be lonely and a misfit." Sirius flushed, feeling resentful; he did not want to feel sorry for Snape. "And that, I think, is what may eventually make Harry an even better man than his father was: he has suffered hardship and cruelty, but in spite of it, he has turned out to be a kind and decent person. Adversity, rather than breaking him, has made him stronger. You should not be angry that he does not want you to come visit him, Sirius; rather, you should be proud of the maturity he is showing. Because it is love that motivates him, Sirius; of course he wants to see you, but your safety is more important to him than his own desires."

Sirius bowed his head, feeling ashamed, and angry at her for making him feel that way. "All right, all right," he mumbled. "I'll stay safe at home." He got to his feet and headed back to his own room.

"And no more sticking your head into fireplaces!" Blackmore called after him.

Sirius turned back to glare at her. "You say we all have faults, Branwen; what about yours? You sit in judgment over us and meddle in our lives, but have you ever stopped to take a look at your own? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why the closest friend you have is a bird?" Bane cawed angrily at that remark. "Maybe you interfere in my and Moony's and Snape's lives so you won't have to think about how empty your own life is!" Branwen went pale, and her green eyes suddenly looked hurt and vulnerable in a way Sirius had never seen before. He abruptly closed his mouth, realizing that he had gone too far, but it was too late to take his words back. "Branwen, I--I didn't mean--"

"Yes, you did, Sirius," she replied quietly, then smiled at him bitterly. "It's amazing how you can be so dense and so perceptive at the same time."

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered.

"I believe you, Sirius, but there are some things that cannot be mended by mere words." Blackmore sighed, but looked more sad than angry. "It's odd that you and Severus hate each other so much, considering how alike you are--"

"I'm not like Snape!"

"You both lash out without thinking when you are angry, and hurt both yourselves and the people who care about you. You are both arrogant and stubborn, and hate to admit that you're wrong. The difference between the two of you is that Severus is aware of his faults, and is trying to change--slowly, and with limited success, but at least he is trying. And he has been working hard to atone for the mistakes he has made in the past, even at the risk of his own life. But you, Sirius--when will you change? When will you grow up and leave the past behind?"

Sirius spluttered, glaring at her with both guilt and anger in his eyes.

"And yes, Sirius," Blackmore continued in a soft voice, "you are right. I have trouble connecting with people; ever since I was a child, I have always felt I was different, always felt somehow apart from everyone else. Perhaps it is my demon blood; perhaps it's just me. I did love my students, as if they were my own children, but I could not, or would not, express that love to them, and that is the mistake that I must atone for. I failed to save my Slytherin students from Voldemort, and I failed to teach my Gryffindor students compassion."

She swept out of the room without another word, but long after she had left, Sirius kept seeing that look of sorrow and guilt in her eyes. That look made him feel ashamed of himself, and he had the sinking feeling that he had just behaved as badly as Snape--no worse, because Snape was just a Slytherin, and Sirius was supposed to be the "noble" Gryffindor, who should have known better...

*** 

Snape was already in a bad mood when he arrived to teach his Potions class; today he had the dubious honor of being observed by Professor Umbridge. Lovely. He arrived to find Potter and Weasley wrestling with Longbottom, which was rather strange--he had thought they were all friends. But it gave Snape a chance to vent some of his ire on them, and snapped, "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

The students took their seats, and Snape said in a low, sneering voice, "You will notice that we have a guest with us today." Snape was quite sure that Lucius Malfoy would make sure he kept his job no matter what Umbridge reported, but he still resented her being in his classroom at all. He tried to ignore her and went about with his lesson on Strengthening Solutions. Snape had bent over to inspect Dean Thomas's cauldron when he heard Umbridge say from behind him:

"Well, this class seems fairly advanced for their level. Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape slowly straightened up and turned to look at her; out of the corner of his eye he saw Thomas flinch at the look of cold fury on his face, but Umbridge just gave him her toady little smile. _How...dare...she!_ he silently raged. _No one tells me how to teach my classes--no one!_ The Headmaster himself had never intervened in Snape's classes--except to make sure he didn't fail Potter--but Dumbledore had never questioned his teaching methods, though he knew the Headmaster didn't really approve of some of them. _I am going to kill Lucius Malfoy,_ he thought, grinding his teeth together. It had been Lucius who had arranged for Umbridge to be sent here.

But Umbridge was asking him how long he'd been teaching here. "Fourteen years," said Snape curtly.

"You have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. His hands twitched, and he had to restrain himself from throttling her for embarrassing him in front of the students like this.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"I suggest you ask him," Snape said jerkily. He was very, very close to losing his temper. He wondered if a Cruciatus Curse would wipe that smug look off her face.

"Oh, I shall," Umbridge replied sweetly.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes. Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of the teachers'--er--backgrounds..."

_My background is that my parents taught me the Dark Arts from the time I was able to walk, and that I was a Death Eater; put that on your damned clipboard, why don't you, you old hag?!_

Umbridge turned away and began questioning Pansy Parkinson about the lessons. Snape turned to find Potter's potion congealing and giving off a strong smell of burning rubber. He took out his frustration on Potter, saying maliciously, "No marks again, then, Potter," and emptied the boy's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Potter, obviously furious, but unable to talk back to his teacher for fear of more punishment. Snape felt a little better, and circled the classroom in search of another victim...

*** 

Lupin returned from Japan to find things between Branwen and Sirius oddly strained. Neither of them would tell him what had happened, but Sirius seemed subdued and there was an uneasy, almost guilty look in his eyes whenever he looked at Branwen. As for Branwen, she was even more quiet and introverted than usual. Lupin missed seeing the merry and mischievous side of herself that she had revealed to them over the summer.

"How did things go in Japan, Moony?" Sirius asked.

Lupin shrugged. "I presented my case. Kamiyama is sympathetic to our cause, but his colleagues are still skeptical. Nothing gets decided quickly in Japan, Sirius; they must debate among themselves and weigh the merits and risks of getting involved, but at least they agreed to think about it and didn't turn me down outright."

Sirius scowled. "They'd better not take too long to think about it, or Voldemort will be knocking at their door by the time they make up their minds!"

"It's only human nature to be leery of putting oneself and one's loved ones at risk for the sake of strangers," Blackmore said in a slightly didactic tone, sounding more like her old self. "Look at World War Two, and how the Americans did not want to get involved in a European war until Pearl Harbor was bombed. And if the situation were reversed, and the Japanese were asking us to help rid them of a Dark Wizard, would our British wizards be so eager to help?"

Sirius shrugged and said reluctantly, "Probably not. We can't even get the Ministry to protect its own people, much less someone else's!"

Lupin said, "Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter, Miyako, has the true Sight, and has been having disturbing dreams of snakes and skulls, which perhaps has made our Japanese friends take us more seriously than they otherwise would have. But she is very young, and the visions are not clear, and they are not willing to commit themselves solely on basis of a teenage girl's dreams. All we can do is wait."

Lupin sighed. He was by nature a patient man, but the tasks he carried out for the Order--recruiting amongst the non-humans as well as the Japanese wizards--were at times frustrating. Even if Sirius had not been a fugitive from the law, he was too impatient and hot-tempered to be entrusted with diplomatic missions. Lupin's own patience was stretched thin by the very slow, unrewarding pace at which the missions were proceeding. The Japanese were loathe to commit themselves to a foreign war, and the British non-humans were loathe to aid the human wizards who treated them as second-class citizens at best. Lupin knew he could not really expect to gain new recruits at this point, but was working at building up a relationship of trust, which required him to move slowly, with painstaking care, so that he did not alienate their potential allies.

At least the tension between Sirius and Branwen seemed to be slowly smoothing over with time. Lupin might have tried harder to find out what was going on between them, but he was distracted by his worries, and then the approach of the full moon drove all such thoughts out of his mind completely...

Lupin was, as he had told Hermione, much healthier than he had been two years ago, thanks in part to the improvements Severus and Professor Kamiyama had made to the Wolfsbane Potion. But he had not been entirely honest; his well-being was due not only to the potion, but to Severus's presence as well. Kamiyama had told Lupin that the wolf's aggression was being channeled into what he delicately referred to as "the mating instinct," and Severus brought out the wolf's more nurturing side, the part of the wolf that wanted to love and protect its mate.

Severus had kept his promise to visit as often as possible when the moon was waxing during the summer, but now that school had started, it was harder for him to get away. And without Severus, Lupin felt the wolf stirring restlessly within him. He kept pacing around his room without even realizing he was doing so, working off the wolf's nervous energy. Lupin the man understood why Severus could not be here, but the wolf inside him did not. It whined unhappily and snarled irritably, wanting its mate's loving presence, wanting the hunger inside it satisfied.

Lupin was tired, cranky, and quite frankly, horny. Self-gratification did little to placate the wolf, because it was not just sex the wolf wanted; it wanted the touch, taste, and scent of its mate. It wanted Severus. Lupin was just about ready to crawl out of his skin with frustration. At this point, he would have welcomed the pain and nausea he used to feel before the full moon, because at least it would have provided a distraction from his loneliness and the wolf's desire.

Of course, he had gone through this before last year, but somehow it had been easier to bear then; Lupin wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that when he was alone in his cottage in the woods, he didn't have to worry about being polite to other people, and could be as cranky and self-pitying as he wanted. The presence of other people got on his nerves; he didn't dare go out on any missions this close to the full moon. Branwen seemed to sense that he wanted to be left alone, but Sirius did not, and he found himself quarreling more and more with Sirius as the week went on.

One day when they were in the kitchen getting ready for dinner, Sirius made some snide crack about Snape, the kind Lupin would usually have ignored, but today he snapped, "Oh, grow up, Sirius! I'm sick of listening to your insults about Severus; Branwen is right, you're acting like a child!"

"Like Snape is so mature himself," Sirius sneered, sounding rather miffed. "I don't know what you see in that greasy-haired git--"

"You take that back!" Lupin snarled, baring his teeth and grabbing Sirius by the front of his shirt.

"Moony!" Sirius exclaimed, looking startled and a little frightened. "Take it easy!"

"Remus," said a quiet voice, "let him go."

Lupin turned, his mouth still twisted in a snarl, to see Branwen standing behind him. He blinked, and the wolf's anger receded as sanity returned. He suddenly realized he was still holding onto Sirius's shirt in his clenched fists, and hastily let go and took a step back. Sirius was still staring at him in shock, and Lupin groaned and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said. "The wolf is feeling a bit testy."

Blackmore glared at Sirius. "You should know better than to provoke him this close to the full moon." 

"Is it close to the full moon?" Sirius asked, sounding surprised, and Blackmore rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like I can ever go outside to look at the moon, or the sun, for that matter!" he said in a defensive tone. "Besides, I thought the potion was supposed to help..."

Lupin groaned again, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head down on them, letting his hair fall across his face. "Maybe you should just lock me in my room until the full moon passes!"

Blackmore gave Sirius the same look she used to give her students when they were being particularly dense. Then she sat in the chair next to Lupin and began stroking his hair, as if he were a small child, and said in a gentle voice, "You miss Severus, don't you?"

"Yes," Lupin mumbled, not raising his head from the table. "It's not just the potion that makes the transformation easier; it's Severus. The wolf wants him so badly it's driving me crazy!"

"Maybe you should contact Severus," Blackmore suggested.

"No!" said Lupin, lifting his head up a little. "He's got enough to deal with at school; he'd be here if he could. I don't want him to wear himself out running back and forth between here and Hogwarts, and I don't want to put him in danger if anyone becomes suspicious why he's leaving school in the middle of the week--"

"All right, we won't say anything to him then, Remus. Shh, it's all right..." Blackmore continued to stroke his hair tenderly, and Lupin subsided, resting his head on his arms again. Normally, Lupin would have been too embarrassed to let her do such a thing, but the wolf was in control now, and the wolf found it soothing. The gentle touch of her hand on his hair was not unlike the comforting touch of a mother wolf licking and grooming her cubs. Lupin sighed, and made a contented little growling noise deep in his throat. 

Sirius watched in amazement, not sure whether he was more surprised by Lupin or Professor Blackmore. Of course he had known for years that Lupin was a werewolf, but except for the actual transformation, Lupin was so good at keeping himself under control that Sirius was shocked to see him acting so wolf-like. As for Blackmore, he was still having trouble viewing her as a comrade and a friend instead of a teacher, although since he had worked with her before as an Auror-in-training, he had adjusted better to the change than Snape had. But he still couldn't get over seeing her act so motherly; not just because of her normally imperious manner, but because she still looked so young--all three of her former students looked older than she did now: Lupin with his prematurely graying hair, Snape with lines of bitterness etched into his face, and Sirius still looking haggard from his imprisonment in Azkaban. 

Sirius noticed for the first time how young and pretty Branwen was; it wasn't as if he had ever thought she was ugly, but like all of her students, he had been too much in awe and terror of her to think of her as a woman. Well, all except for Evan Rosier, who'd had the balls to ask Blackmore for a dance at the Yule Ball during their fourth year. That had rankled a bit, because Sirius had prided himself on being thought of as bold, and popular with the girls, but Rosier's reputation had temporarily eclipsed his after that little stunt. Sirius shook his head slightly; lovely though she was, he didn't think he could ever regard a woman who had given him detention in a romantic way.

Blackmore continued to stroke Lupin's hair until the tension had gone out of his body, leaving him limp with relaxation. His breathing had become slow and even, and Sirius wondered if he had fallen asleep, but Blackmore rumpled his hair in a playful manner, and he looked up and smiled at her. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest, Remus?"

Lupin yawned and said docilely, "Yes, Professor." 

He got to his feet and started to leave the table, but Sirius stopped him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he said, "I'm sorry for being such a stupid git, Remy."

"I forgive you, Sirius," Lupin said, giving him a hug. Then he turned to leave, looking over his shoulder on the way out as he said indignantly, "And Severus's hair is _not_ greasy--it's shiny!" Fortunately, Lupin flounced out of the room before Sirius could open his mouth and say anything that would negate his apology.

Sirius scowled at his departing friend. Since when did Remus ever _flounce_? "I can't believe that slimy git can affect Remus so drastically!" he grumbled.

"Didn't Remus explain it to you, Sirius?" Blackmore asked impatiently. Sirius shook his head, and Blackmore sighed. "Well, I suppose he thought you might react badly, but you're clever enough to have figured it out on your own."

"Well, if you wouldn't mind enlightening this dunce, Professor..." Sirius said sardonically.

"Remus is healthier, partly because of the improved potion, but mostly because he is no longer fighting the wolf's instincts. And it is safe for him to do so because the wolf's energy is being channeled towards...well, its mate...instead of in more destructive directions." Blackmore smiled. "Haven't you noticed how much time Severus and Remus spend alone in their room when the full moon is near?" 

Sirius flushed. "Every time Snape comes over they lock themselves up in their rooms; I don't know how you can tell the difference! And I never read that in any textbook on Dark Creatures!"

Blackmore laughed. "Well, apparently it's a very recent discovery! Severus should publish a paper on it...but I suspect he would be too embarrassed! But seriously, the presence of its mate pacifies the wolf, and conversely, it seems that Severus's absence causes the wolf distress."

Sirius groaned in dismay. It was bad enough that Moony was in love with that greasy git, but now he was in essence physically addicted to him as well! "Is this some sort of werewolf thing? Because wolves mate for life?"

"It's a myth that werewolves mate for life," Blackmore replied. "But of course Remus is as capable as any human being is of falling in love, deeply and permanently. The wolf loves Severus because Remus loves him, not the other way around." She gave Sirius a smile that was completely devoid of any hint of sympathy. "You might as well get used to it, Sirius; if their bond survived nearly twenty years of separation and strife, it is likely a permanent one."

Sirius sulked, although he had already come to the same conclusion; he just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, hoping that Remus would come to his senses one day.

"Severus has his faults, Sirius," Blackmore said quietly. "But one of his best virtues is that he accepts the wolf in Remus, and has helped Remus to accept it as well. He has never viewed Remus as a monster because he was a werewolf."

"But after he saw Moony in the Shrieking Shack--"

Blackmore gave him that impatient look again, the one that said he wasn't as bright as she had thought he was. "He didn't hate Remus because he was a werewolf; if he pretended to, it was only because he was angry that Remus didn't trust him with his secret. I suspect if Remus had told Severus the truth, it would only have made Severus more protective of Remus than he already was." Blackmore smiled, wryly and sadly at the same time. "If anything, it would have reassured him; not many people would accept a werewolf as a lover, so that would have meant that Remus would be less likely to leave him."

Sirius gave Blackmore a skeptical look, but remembered what Remus had told him at the start of the summer: that the real reason Snape hated him was because Snape was jealous of his and Remus's closeness, that Snape had difficulty grasping the concept that Remus could love more than one person at the same time. But Sirius still had trouble believing that Snape was capable of loving anyone.

Blackmore sighed. "Don't you see that he's always loved Remus? I admit that he doesn't always express it in the best way, but he hasn't exactly had many good role models; I met his parents while I was teaching at Hogwarts, and I assure you, they are in their own way, as bad as your mother, though more subtle. And he had no kind uncle to lend him a hand, no one like the Potters to act as a surrogate family. It's a miracle that's he's turned out as well as he has, considering his upbringing; I suspect Albus can take most of the credit for that." 

Sirius still looked skeptical, stubbornly refusing to let go of his old image of Snape as a sneaky, slimy bastard. Maybe he was being childish, but he did not want to feel sorry for Snape, did not want to see him as person with virtues as well as flaws. And he was a little irritated that Blackmore and Lupin kept trying to force him to.

"If he didn't love Remus," Blackmore continued in a quiet but persistent voice, "then why did he help Naoto Kamiyama to develop the Wolfsbane Potion, when he and Remus were still estranged, and he had no hope of reconciliation? Why would he help someone he believed was a monster and had supposedly tried to kill him?"

"I don't know," Sirius said sullenly. "Maybe he saw it as an intellectual challenge."

"Severus does like a challenge, yes, but there were many equally challenging projects he could have chosen to work on, but he chose that particular one, and took no credit for his role in it. Honestly, Sirius! Remus was right--you need to grow up!" He glared at her, but she glared right back at him. "Think of someone besides yourself for once! Hate Severus if you want, but keep it to yourself so you don't hurt Remus; he has enough to worry about without you adding to his burden. We are his pack now, Sirius; if Severus cannot be with him for the full moon, he will need our support more than ever."

That was the one argument that could sway Sirius. "Yes, Professor," he said, bowing his head. He felt guilty when he thought of Remus being overwhelmed by the wolf, goaded in part by Sirius's thoughtless comments.

"So no more nasty comments about Severus, at least until the full moon passes."

"I'll behave myself," Sirius said in a rather surly tone. Then he frowned as he thought about what she had said earlier. "Did Remus tell you all that stuff, about the wolf's energy being channeled into its 'mating instinct'?"

"No, but Severus told me a little about it, in a very general way, when he showed me how to brew the potion, and I was able to infer the rest on my own. Besides," she added with a sheepish little smile, "I watched them in Araqiel's scrying pool when they were in Japan working on the potion with Kamiyama."

Sirius grinned in spite of himself. "Snape thinks you're a voyeur, and I'm beginning to think he's right! You seem to take a rather unseemly pleasure in the details of his and Lupin's love life, Professor."

"My sole concern is the well-being of my students, Mr. Black," Blackmore said in a lofty tone. 

"Right," said Sirius, unconvinced. Then in a slightly hurt tone he said, "How come you never seem to take an interest in my well-being?"

"You seem quite healthy to me, Mr. Black, aside from a short temper and an oversized ego," Blackmore replied coolly. Then she added with a mischievous smile, "And besides, you have no love life for me to meddle in."

"Well, it's a little hard to meet women when I'm cooped up in this moldy old house all the time," Sirius complained.

Blackmore said with a wicked little gleam in her green eyes, "Why Sirius, did you want me to set you up on a blind date?"

"No!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing up his hands as if to ward her off. God only knew who or what she might set him up with--one of her grandfather's demon lackeys, or worse, a Slytherin! He shuddered at the thought of her trying to set him up with a female version of Snape; he had no idea why she liked the slimy git so much, nor why Remus did, for that matter...

Blackmore just laughed, and Sirius thought darkly that it was no surprise that she had turned out to have demon blood. But for all that his former teacher complained about his short temper, Sirius was a little more careful about what he said after their last quarrel, in which he had come close to saying something unforgivable. Actually, it probably was unforgivable, but she had forgiven him anyway. In mutual unspoken agreement, they dropped the subject and ate dinner, talking about more pleasant and less touchy topics, such as how Harry might be faring at school this year.

But he did not forget their discussion, and he tried hard to keep his temper in check and be nice to Remus until the full moon had passed, although it almost killed him to hold his tongue and not say anything bad about Snape. And both he and Blackmore stayed with Remus when he changed; as soon as the transformation was complete, the wolf tilted back its head and let out a lonely-sounding howl. But Blackmore sat next to him on the floor, and began petting Lupin and scratching behind his ears, not unlike the way Snape did. For a moment, Sirius thought Lupin was going to flop down in her lap, but apparently that was a privilege reserved only for Snape. He did settle down on the floor beside her, though, whining softly but looking less miserable. Sirius transformed into Snuffles-the-dog and curled up beside the wolf, and Lupin let out a little sigh, seeming to take some comfort in the presence of his two friends.

*** 

Things were going fairly well for Dylan Rosier. To his relief, Draco said nothing more about Voldemort or the Death Eaters, although he did show Dylan some curses and hexes his father had taught him. Dylan pretended to be impressed, and did not mention that his mother had already taught him those very same spells years ago.

On the other hand, Dylan was bored out of his mind in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. All they did was read from a textbook; they weren't allowed to practice any spells at all. Of course he wasn't stupid enough to mouth off to Professor Umbridge, as Harry Potter apparently had, but Draco overheard him complaining in the Slytherin dorm, and told him to keep his mouth shut and not make any waves. He hinted, in that smugly superior way of his, that it was all part of a bigger plan. "You may be bored now," Draco said, "but things will get exciting soon enough, just you wait and see! There are going to be a lot of changes to Hogwarts in the future--changes that will benefit Slytherin." But he refused to say anything specific about what those changes might be.

Meanwhile, Dylan continued his semi-clandestine friendship with Hermione. He met her for a S.P.E.W. meeting in a deserted corner of the library, and to his delight, they were the only ones there, since Weasley and Potter were too busy with getting caught up on their homework to attend. 

"What a beautiful ring, Dylan!" Hermione said, as she caught sight of the ring Ariane had given him for his birthday.

He beamed proudly. "It belonged to my father; my mother said I was old enough to wear it now."

Hermione seemed a bit taken aback, but to her credit, she made no comments about Death Eaters, and merely smiled--if a bit nervously--and said, "Well, it's really lovely, and very clever. I've never seen a stone cut like that, to resemble a flower."

"Thanks." He smiled back and changed the subject. "I talked to my Uncle Math over the summer about S.P.E.W."

"Great! What did he say?"

"He said he agrees with you in principle, but the situation is more complicated than you think. Now don't scowl at me, Hermione; I'm just telling you what my uncle said. Will you hear me out first before you say anything?"

"All right," she said reluctantly. "I suppose that's only fair."

"Well, first of all, he says the reason that house-elves are bound in servitude has to do with a balance of power. The elves have a great amount of inherent magical ability; that means that they don't have to learn to cast spells the way wizards do. They're born knowing how to do magic, the way a bird just knows how to fly, or a fish knows how to swim. But Uncle Math says power never comes without a price; the price they pay for their magic is that they can only use it to serve others. That's sort of nature's way of keeping things in balance, keeping them from abusing their powers and becoming too powerful." Dylan snickered. "Can you imagine a horde of house-elves running amok and taking over the world?"

"That's not funny, Dylan!" Hermione said indignantly. "It's not fair to enslave them just because they MIGHT abuse their powers! There are no checks and balances on human wizards; look at Vol..." She stuttered a little over Voldemort's name as Dylan went pale, and quickly changed it to, "...You-Know-Who."

"Well, the Ministry of Magic is supposed to be keeping us wizards in line." Hermione rolled her eyes, and Dylan smiled. "Yes, well, I suppose they're not always very effective. Anyway, Math says he agrees with you, that house-elves shouldn't be enslaved, or at the very least, their masters shouldn't be allowed to abuse them. But he says things have to be done gradually; you can't just up and free them all at once. For one thing, most of them don't want to be freed."

"Dobby did!"

"Dobby is an aberration. Have you talked to any of the Hogwarts house-elves?" Hermione nodded. "Did any of them want to be freed?"

"No, but that's because they've been brainwashed--"

Dylan repressed a sigh and said patiently, "Yes, and you can't undo that brainwashing overnight. If you tore them away from the households they serve, they'd be lost and unhappy."

"Like Winky," Hermione murmured, then said out loud, "So are we just supposed to sit back and do nothing?"   
"Uncle Math says that you--I mean, we--have to take things slowly and lead by example. Treat the house-elves kindly, and try to persuade others to do so."

"That doesn't seem like much," Hermione said dubiously.

"He says he would like to see legislation passed that would make it a crime to abuse a house-elf, but most of the wizarding world is opposed to it. They see the elves as their property, and anyway it would be hard to enforce, since an elf isn't likely to file a complaint against its master."

"That's an excellent idea!" said Hermione, her eyes lighting up. "Of course, we'll still work for complete freedom, but that's a place to start! We'll write letters, start a petition--"

"Uh, the Ministry of Magic isn't likely to listen to a couple of kids," Dylan said nervously. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up--there was no way he could put his name on such a petition without getting into trouble with Malfoy and Slytherin House. "When we become adults, and perhaps have some political influence--"

"There are elves being oppressed right now!" Hermione said. "They can't wait around for five or ten years!"

"They've waited this long already," Dylan muttered. "A few more years won't kill them."

Hermione ignored him. "I'm starting a petition and letter-writing campaign! Maybe you can ask your uncle which wizards and Ministry members might be sympathetic to our cause."

"All right," Dylan agreed, relieved that she wasn't asking him to take a more visible role in her "cause".

"And some elves DO want to be freed, because I've been knitting clothes for the elves and leaving them in Gryffindor Tower, and someone's been taking them!"

"Really?" Dylan asked skeptically, and Hermione nodded emphatically. He hadn't heard of any elves leaving Hogwarts, and he suspected the clothes were just being thrown away, but she looked so happy that he decided not to say anything and spoil her pleasure. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway. 

"I'm going to go and get started right away!" Hermione said enthusiastically as she rose from her seat. "I really appreciate your help, Dylan; you're the only one who really believes in what we're doing. Even Ron and Harry aren't really that interested. So thank you." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then blushed and hurried out of the library.

Dylan just sat there, stunned, for a moment, then reached up and touched his cheek with one hand. A grin slowly spread across his face, and he murmured to himself as he looked down at his ring, "I guess I have your touch with the ladies, Dad."

*** 

Harry had reluctantly agreed to consider Hermione's idea of teaching an unofficial Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "But I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," Hermione said.

They had a weekend trip to Hogsmeade coming up, and Harry agreed to meet with the people Hermione had sounded out. She said a little hesitantly, "I wonder...what do you think about asking Dylan Rosier to join us?"

"Are you out of your mind, Hermione?!" Ron shouted. "Not only is he a Slytherin, he's a Death Eater!"

"His father, whom he never even met, was a Death Eater," Hermione corrected. "I don't think Dylan is one himself. He's a member of S.P.E.W., after all, and no self-respecting Death Eater would ever work to free house-elves from slavery!"

Ron just grunted. He didn't like or trust Dylan Rosier, but he still couldn't figure out why Dylan had joined S.P.E.W. "He doesn't need any lessons in the Dark Arts," Ron said sourly. "He probably knows more than all of us put together."

"I'm not teaching Dylan Rosier," Harry said flatly. "I don't trust him."

"Has he ever done anything to you?" Hermione demanded. "Has he ever once been rude to you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "But he hangs around with Draco Malfoy--"

"I've already explained to you that he's afraid Draco will get him kicked out of Hogwarts if--"

"It doesn't matter whether he's really Draco's friend or not," Harry interrupted. "We can't take the chance of Malfoy finding out! Even if Dylan's all right, we can't take the chance that he might let something slip by accident, or that one of the Slytherins might follow him to our meetings!"

Hermione argued halfheartedly awhile longer, but Harry refused to change his mind. "I suppose you're right," she sighed. "I'm sure Dylan wouldn't betray us, but it would get both him and us in trouble if any of the Slytherins found out."

"Slimy git," Ron muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Ron Weasley?!"

"Nothing."

*** 

Things continued to go well for Dylan. Three members of the Slytherin Quidditch team had graduated last year, so Dylan decided to try out for one of the open slots. Crabbe and Goyle became the new Beaters, and Dylan won the Chaser position. Draco made out that he had put in a good word for Dylan, but Dylan knew that he'd earned the spot. Although he was new at the sport, he was an excellent flyer and learned quickly. In fact, he had to restrain himself a bit, to keep from looking too good and showing up Draco. He knew he would make a better Seeker than Draco, but this was how the game was played in Slytherin House: politics counted for more than talent. Still, he was happy to have made the team at all--and even happier when he found out that not only would Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin be attending Slytherin's first match against Gryffindor, but his mother was coming as well! It was the first time Ariane had been allowed off the estate since Dylan was born; he resolved to play well and make her proud of him.

Draco had come up with an idea that was sure to help them win. Ron Weasley, the new Gryffindor Keeper, was inexperienced and insecure, and became flustered whenever the Slytherin spectators taunted him. So Draco had made up the "Weasley Is Our King" song, and made up crown-shaped badges engraved with the song title for all the Slytherins to wear. Dylan was a little impressed; he had no idea that Draco could be so creative. It made him a little uneasy, though. He felt no pity for Weasley, who looked at Dylan like he was scum and had told all his Gryffindor friends that Dylan was a Death Eater's son, but he knew Hermione would be upset when she heard the song. Dylan just hoped that she wouldn't blame him for it.

The game was going well; Dylan had made some nice passes, and Weasley completely lost it when the Slytherins started singing:

Weasley cannot save a thing  
He cannot block a single ring,  
That's why Slytherins all sing:  
Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin,  
He always lets the Quaffle in,  
Weasley will make sure we win,  
Weasley is our King.

Weasley made the song a reality, letting Slytherin score three goals. It looked like Slytherin was going to win, but then Potter dived and grabbed hold of the Snitch; Malfoy missed it by just a few inches. The Gryffindor spectators roared, the Slytherins booed, and then--

WHAM! Crabbe hurled a Bludger into Potter's back, and he flew off his broom. Dylan felt a quick stab of malicious pleasure, but silently cursed Crabbe nonetheless. The idiot would probably lose Slytherin points and gain himself detention.

Draco landed beside Potter, white-faced with fury, and sneered, "Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper...but then he was 'born in a bin'... Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Potter turned away, and Draco continued to taunt him. Dylan landed nearby; he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him something bad was going to happen. "--We couldn't fit in 'useless loser' either--for his father, you know--"

Fred and George Weasley turned towards Malfoy. Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor captain, grabbed Fred by the arm saying, "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little--"

Dylan didn't like the look in the older Weasleys' eyes, and both boys were considerably larger than Dylan and Draco. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and whispered nervously, "Draco, you've made your point, ease up--"

Draco angrily shrugged off Dylan's hand and sneered, "--but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter? Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay--"

The Gryffindor team members were fighting to hold Fred and George back; Madam Hooch was too busy berating Crabbe to notice. Dylan whispered urgently, "Draco, please, enough already! Pretty soon they won't be able to hold the Weasleys back, and the term 'Beaters' will take on a whole new meaning!" He grabbed Draco's arm and began pulling him back.

Draco let Dylan pull him away, but turned back one last time to say, "Or perhaps you can remember what YOUR mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it--"

In the next instant, Potter and George Weasley were charging at Malfoy. Dylan decided that retreat was the better part of valor, and sprinted off to get Madam Hooch. Let Draco fight his own battles; Dylan didn't intend to get beat up for Draco's sake, and he didn't have his wand on him. Besides, casting hexes even in self-defense might get him expelled.

Madam Hooch broke up the fight; she was furious, and sent the two Gryffindor boys to see their Head of House, and Draco to the hospital wing. Later that evening Dylan learned that Potter, George Weasley, and Fred Weasley--who hadn't been part of the brawl, though no doubt would have been if he hadn't been held back--were permanently banned from playing Quidditch.

*** 

The Malfoys hurried off to the hospital wing to see their son; Narcissa looked concerned, while Lucius just looked annoyed. Ariane was pleased to see them go; she had not forgotten Lucius's impromptu visit over the summer, though of course he had said nothing about it when they met in the Slytherin section of the stands. He had merely greeted Ariane, Mathias, and Goewin with icy politeness, and Math had responded with an equally cold and proper greeting; neither of the men had forgotten that they had fought on opposite sides of the war, and they both despised each other. Math had forgiven Ariane, but she was family, and Lucius was not; and besides, she suspected that her uncle blamed Lucius for getting Ariane and Evan involved with Voldemort in the first place, which was certainly true enough.

She wanted to talk to Severus without Malfoy listening in on them; things couldn't have worked out better if she had planned them herself. Though of course it would have been nice if Dylan's team had won. But still, Draco Malfoy had done her a favor by getting himself attacked by the Potter and Weasley boys. She shook her head slightly; could sly, cunning Lucius Malfoy really have sired such a little idiot? It must be Narcissa's influence; from what Dylan had said, it seemed that she spoiled the brat rotten.

"Mother!" shouted Dylan, running up to his family as they exited the stands. "Uncle Math! Aunt Goewin! Did you see me play?"

Ariane hugged her son and kissed him, and was pleased that he didn't pull away in embarrassment as some of the other children were doing as their mothers greeted them. "Yes I did; you were wonderful, Dylan!"

"We lost, though," he said, looking a little crestfallen. 

"You played well," said Goewin, stepping forward to give him a hug. "You did your best, that's what counts. Though I must say that your teammates showed a very distinct lack of sportsmanship."

"Slytherins hate to lose," Ariane said lightly.

"Sometimes defeat strengthens us more than success," Math said gravely, then smiled at his great-nephew. "But I'm very proud of you, Dylan, for the way you kept your head and tried to defuse the situation."

Dylan smiled and accepted another round of hugs and kisses from his family.

Severus Snape had come down from the teacher's section of the stands to talk with the parents of his students. He looked as pale and sour as he had when Ariane had last seen him, but he looked as if he had aged more than the fourteen years that had actually passed. There were deep lines carved into his face--mostly on his forehead and around his mouth, as if from frowning too much, but it was more the bitterness in his eyes that made him look older than he really was. Eventually he worked his way over to the Donners.

"Thank you for looking after Dylan, Professor Snape," Math said in a formal manner, but not as coldly as he had spoken to Lucius Malfoy.

"You're welcome, Mr. Donner," Snape said, but he looked as though he were performing a tedious duty that he couldn't wait to get over with.

"Hello, Severus," Goewin said politely. She had known him at Hogwarts, though not very well, having been a year older, in a different House, and had left school early to study with Math.

"Goewin," Snape said, giving her a curt nod.

"Dylan speaks very highly of you," Goewin said pleasantly, and Dylan smiled nervously.

Snape's eyes and voice remained cold and indifferent, but he said, "Dylan is a good student; he was the top-ranked third-year among all the Houses last term. He is quiet, respectful, and knows how to follow instructions." He scowled as his eyes flickered over to the Gryffindor stands. "Which is more than I can say for some of my other students." Dylan's jaw dropped at his teacher's unexpected compliment, and Snape frowned at him. "Close your mouth, Mr. Rosier," he said coolly. "Unless you want to appear to be as witless as Mr. Goyle." Dylan hastily closed his mouth.

"As Head of Slytherin," Math said, "I hope you will discipline your students. The conduct of some of them during today's match was quite disgraceful."

"Yes, yes," Snape said in a dismissive tone of voice. "Mr. Crabbe isn't very bright, I'm afraid, but he has already been given detention."

"It wasn't just the boy who threw the Bludger, but the Malfoy child--" began Goewin.

"Potter and Malfoy are always arguing," Snape said, giving her a cold look. "Simple schoolboy rivalry. And it was Potter and Weasley who physically attacked my student, not the other way around."

"And that horrible song--"

"Yes, that was somewhat...unusual," said Snape, his black eyes still unreadable. "However, there is nothing against it in the rule book."

"It was a personal attack against the Gryffindor Keeper!" Goewin said, sounding outraged. "Are you telling me that you condone that kind of behavior, Severus?"

Snape shrugged. "As I said, it's not against the rules. Far be it from me to discourage creativity in my students. Besides, I've seen far worse heckling at professional Quidditch matches."

"This is not a professional match!"

Snape gave Goewin an almost amused look, as Dylan anxiously looked back and forth from his great-aunt to his teacher. "You always were tenderhearted, Goewin. But I don't believe in coddling my students. They shouldn't get used to people always treating them fairly or catering to their sensitive little egos, or they won't be prepared for life once they enter the real world as adults."

Goewin spluttered with indignation, and Ariane leaned over and whispered, "Let it go, Goewin. You'll never get Severus to agree with you." 

Math said calmly, "Professor Snape has a point, my dear. I believe he wishes to teach his students to be strong enough to survive in the 'real world'." Snape looked surprised, but nodded slowly, giving Math a suspicious look. "But I believe that strength should always be tempered with compassion."

Snape just stared at him silently for a moment, then said, "Well, it has been a pleasure talking with you," although his tone said the exact opposite. "But I'm afraid I have to speak to some of the other parents." He gave them a brusque nod and walked off.

Dylan chattered happily with his family for a few minutes, then Professor Flitwick came over and greeted Ariane cheerfully, as if she had never stood trial as an accused Death Eater. He praised Dylan's progress, then got absorbed in a conversation with Goewin--who had been one of his Ravenclaw students at Hogwarts--and Math. Ariane took advantage of the distraction to slip off and find Severus. Dylan saw her go, but she motioned for him to stay behind, and he obeyed without question. She smiled to herself; he really was a good boy, much better behaved than Malfoy's son!

Snape had apparently finished talking with his students' families, and was heading across the field, back to the castle. "Severus!" Ariane called after him.

Snape turned, looking a little startled, then said, "Oh, hello Ariane," with a considerable lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

"May I speak with you for a moment?"

"If you must," Snape sighed.

Ariane smiled at him, not at all put off by his rudeness; she was used to it. "I just wanted to thank you for all you've done for Dylan."

"You need not thank me, Ariane," Snape replied coolly. "I have done nothing for him that I would not have done for any of my students."

A sudden leap of intuition she'd had last summer had given her an idea of how she might apply some leverage against him. Ariane had written to some of her old Ravenclaw friends who had not completely turned their backs on her, probing for information. She had worded her letters very carefully to keep from arousing any suspicions, and it was only natural that she would be interested in Hogwarts gossip (and especially gossip about the Head of Slytherin) since Dylan was going to school there now, and had been sorted into Slytherin. She had received little useful information, but two things had stood out regarding Severus: one, his bias against Gryffindor in general and Harry Potter in particular; and two, a hatred bordering on obsession towards Remus Lupin. "The Potter boy looks much like his father, don't you think?"

Snape scowled. "Yes, I suppose so."

"A very talented player; it's a pity James isn't around to see him."

"Yes," Snape said sourly. "A real pity."

The old dislike for James was still there, but his reaction was not as strong as might be expected. One theory tested, one more to go. Ariane said in a deliberately casual tone of voice, "By the way, how is Remus Lupin doing these days?"

Snape stopped in his tracks and said sharply, "How would I know?" For just a moment, a frantic look appeared in his black eyes, then was quickly replaced by his usual cold indifference. But it was too late, because Ariane had already seen it.

 _Aha!_ she thought gleefully. Aloud, she said innocently, "Wasn't he teaching here at Hogwarts?"

"Two years ago!" snapped Snape. "He left before Dylan started school; he was exposed as a werewolf, you know. None of the parents wanted a monster teaching their children!"

"So you haven't kept in touch with him, then?"

"Why on earth would I want to keep in touch with a werewolf?!" snarled Snape. "And a shabby, sneaky, arrogant little git of a Gryffindor werewolf at that!"

Ariane smiled and thought to herself, _To misquote Shakespeare, methinks the Professor doth protest too much!_ Still in that casual, innocent voice, she said, "I had heard you had gotten to be friendly with him; my mistake."

"Who told you that?!" asked Snape, his deep voice suddenly turning shrill. 

Ariane shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Just some gossip I heard; like most gossip it appears to be false. Don't worry about it."

"People are gossiping about me and Lupin?!" Snape demanded in a horrified voice. His eyes were definitely looking frantic again.

"Perhaps I misunderstood," Ariane said. "Maybe I was thinking of the old days--you and Lupin were almost friendly at one time, weren't you? Back in fifth year, when you were both working on projects for Blackmore and the Headmaster?"

"We were _not_ friendly!" howled Snape, spit flying from his mouth.

Ariane was enjoying herself immensely. "All right, Severus, calm down! It's just some silly gossip; don't take it so seriously." She let him fume and fret a few moments longer, then said, "I'm very worried about Dylan, Severus."

"What?" he asked, still distracted by Ariane's "gossip".

"He's very young," Ariane continued, "and I'm afraid there are people who might be trying to get him involved in things he is not yet ready for." She had Snape's full attention now, and he was looking at her warily. "People like the Malfoys." She saw Snape's eyes widen and fill with comprehension, and Ariane said in a smooth voice, "I know as Dylan's Head of House, that you'll protect him, Severus. I know you won't let anything happen to your old friend's son."

Snape was staring at her in horror. "Of...of course not," he stuttered.

"Thank you, Severus," Ariane said. She reached up and patted him on the cheek. "And don't worry about that silly gossip; I won't say anything. I know you would be embarrassed if people started spreading foolish rumors about you."

Ariane turned away without another word and started back towards the stands, before Math grew suspicious of her absence. She knew that threatening Severus like this was a calculated risk--provoking a Death Eater was always dangerous. However, bargaining with Severus was still less risky than openly defying Lucius Malfoy. And Evan had once said that Severus did not like to get his hands dirty, leaving the actual killing to other Death Eaters, so she thought he would probably keep his end of the bargain as long as she kept hers.

*** 

Snape just stood there staring at Ariane as she headed back to the stands. _She just blackmailed me!_ his mind gibbered in fear. _How the hell did she find out about me and Lupin?! She's been stuck on her family's estate for fourteen years; how can she be hearing "gossip" that I haven't even heard?!_ Snape was sure that if rumors had been floating around about himself and Lupin, he would have heard something by now, and that he would have been able to detect a change in Lucius Malfoy's attitude towards him. _Damn Ariane, that conniving bitch!_

 _She's only trying to protect her son,_ Snape's inner voice said quietly, which made Snape stop to think. Why was Ariane threatening him now? It wasn't like her to do something so blatant. The answer was clear: Malfoy must have threatened Dylan somehow--probably hinted that he expected Dylan to join the Death Eaters. But he was young for that...although Malfoy had taken them to secret meetings while they were still in school, Snape and his friends had not taken the Mark till they turned eighteen and graduated from Hogwarts. Snape had done his best to try and steer Voldemort's attention away from Dylan, to insinuate that he was still too young and green to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. But had the Dark Lord said something to Malfoy? And if Malfoy was recruiting Dylan behind Snape's back, then that meant the Dark Lord still did not fully trust Snape. And did that mean that Snape's other students were in danger as well, or did the Dark Lord want Dylan in particular for some special purpose?

Snape groaned and headed back to the castle. How was he going to keep Dylan out of Voldemort's hands? And if Malfoy ever found out that Lupin was Snape's lover...Snape shuddered. He really wished he knew how Ariane had found out--or perhaps just guessed at--the truth, so he could take steps to prevent anyone else from learning his secret. 

_Damn you, Ariane!_ he thought sourly. _You didn't have to threaten me; I would have protected him anyway!_ But at least the fact that she had threatened him meant that Ariane probably did not want Dylan to become a Death Eater, which came as a bit of a surprise to Snape. The boy's cool, composed manner and the polite mask he always wore made Snape suspect that Dylan was hiding something--most likely a knowledge of the Dark Arts and an ambition to follow in his father's footsteps. On the other hand, if Ariane truly wished to protect Dylan, she should have gone directly to her uncle Mathias, and perhaps to Dumbledore, which made Snape suspect that she was trying to play it both ways. She didn't want to subject her son to the dangers of life as a Death Eater, but she was unwilling, or perhaps simply afraid to completely sever ties with Voldemort and his followers. Which put Snape in the very awkward position of having to keep Dylan safe without jeopardizing his status as a double agent.

He needed to talk to the Headmaster, but he stopped by his office first to pick up a tonic to ease the massive headache that he felt coming on. Snape had just drank the tonic--which eased the throbbing in his head, but did nothing to loosen the knots of fear in his stomach--when he heard a knock at the door. "Come in," he called.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy walked in, and Snape bit back a groan and forced himself to smile. "Hello, Lucius, Narcissa. How is Draco doing?"

"He'll survive," Lucius said coolly.

"That Potter boy is a monster!" Narcissa said indignantly. "And that Weasley brat as well, whichever one he is--I can't tell all those red-headed brats apart! They could have killed my poor Draco!"

"I'm sure they'll be punished, Narcissa," Snape said in a soothing tone.

Lucius smiled maliciously. "Dumbledore has been soft on the Gryffindors, but things will be different now, with Umbridge as High Inquisitor. The old man's days are numbered, I would say." He laughed, and Snape joined in. "By the way, Severus, did you happen to speak to Ariane Donner?"

Snape forced himself to stay calm and show no emotion. "Yes," he said in an indifferent tone. "She was rather guarded, though, since her uncle was with her."

"What did she say?"

Snape knew that a half-truth always sounded more convincing than an outright lie. "She asked me to continue to look after Dylan, for Evan's sake."

Lucius looked thoughtful. "And how is young Mr. Rosier coming along?"

Snape shrugged. "Well enough. He gets good marks in all his classes, and he's quite adept at Potions. But, like his mother, he is very guarded; it's very hard to tell what he's thinking."

Lucius said, with just a hint of impatience in his smooth voice, "Surely by now, Severus, you must have gotten some idea if he...takes after his father."

"He is much more cautious than Evan ever was," Snape replied. "Probably because he's afraid of being expelled if he steps the slightest bit out of line."

"I think we can prevent that, with Umbridge on our side," Lucius said with a smirk.

"Good," Snape said coolly. "I'll attempt to reassure him of that--subtly, of course. I have told him a few stories of his father's schoolboy escapades, and he seemed to enjoy that." Lucius nodded approvingly. "I will of course continue to...steer him in the right direction, shall we say? But it will take some time to win his trust, and...ah...make him a worthy candidate to take his father's place. He is still very young, after all."

"Not so young, Severus. You were only a year or so older when I first introduced you to our old comrades. And our ranks have thinned over the years; we need new blood."

Snape bowed his head. "I'll do my best, Lucius."

"I'm sure you will, Severus," Lucius said with a smile. He turned to his wife, holding out his arm in a gallant manner, and said, "Come along now, dear, we must be going."

Narcissa laid her hand on her husband's arm, but looked back at Snape as they headed towards the door. "Please look in on Draco, Severus, I'm still worried about him--"

"For heaven's sake, Narcissa," Lucius said impatiently, "it was just a bloody nose and a few bruises!"

"I'll stop by the hospital wing to check on Draco," Snape said.

"He'll be in the dorm; Pomfrey's sending him back after she patches him up," Lucius said, pulling his wife out of the office.

"Then I'll look in on him a little later," Snape said calmly. "I must go to the Headmaster now to discuss Potter and Weasley's punishment."

"And make sure you keep those horrible boys away from him!" Narcissa called out as she and Lucius left.

 _If you're so concerned about your son,_ Snape thought, _why can't you see that the Dark Lord is a much bigger threat to his safety than Potter and Weasley?_

*** 

Lucius Malfoy sat in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron, sipping a glass of brandy. The door opened and Gwydion Donner walked in, followed by his twin brother Gilbert. Gwydion was scowling fiercely and held his wand up, as if expecting an attack.

Lucius smiled and said, "Put that away, Gwydion. As you can see, I'm unarmed." He set down his glass and held up his empty hands. Gwydion tucked his wand into his belt, but made a show of keeping his right hand near the wand. "Please have a seat, gentlemen. Would you care for a drink?"

"I'm not interested in socializing with you, Malfoy," Gwydion said curtly. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? You claimed to have some information that would benefit me and my brother. Though I don't know how I can trust the word of a Dark Wizard."

Malfoy took no apparent offense at the insult, and continued to smile pleasantly. "Very well. It has come to my attention that your Aunt Goewin has named Dylan Rosier as her heir."

Gwydion looked startled, then quickly covered up his surprise with a sneer. "I suppose Ariane told you that! I knew she was a Death Eater all along, just like her good-for-nothing Slytherin lover!"

"Actually," Lucius said calmly, "I heard it from my Ministry sources. You must be very upset, that your Uncle and his little trophy wife have chosen to bypass you in favor of...what is the term you like to use...that Death Eater's spawn?" Gwydion's face turned red as he fumed in anger. "And the Donner lands are passed down through the female line, are they not? If you do not produce a female heir, they could revert back to Ariane; to Dylan's daughter if and when he grows up, marries, and sires a child; or even to Mathias's daughter, should he manage to get a child upon that lovely wife of his. I know he's getting on in years, but age means little to a wizard of his power..."

Gilbert--slow-witted though he was after his "accident"--understood the meaning behind Malfoy's words, and glowered at the other wizard. Gwydion's face turned even redder, and he clenched his fists as he said, "If you summoned me here just to taunt me--"

"Not at all," Lucius said in a hurt tone. "I wish to help you, Gwydion. I can help you keep your inheritance, and perhaps take Dylan's as well."

Gwydion gave Lucius a suspicious look. "And why would you do that? Wasn't Dylan's father your friend?"

Lucius sighed dramatically. "Yes, he was, but alas, Ariane seems to have conveniently forgotten our old friendship. Now that Dylan has an inheritance of his own, she seems to think that she no longer needs us."

Gwydion laughed harshly. "Then she is wiser than I thought!"

Lucius leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, then will you forgive her and accept her back into the family?"

"Never!" said Gwydion, with more than fourteen years of hatred fueling the heat in his voice. "I will never forgive her for sullying our family name and bearing a Slytherin brat!"

"And of course," Lucius added in a silky voice, "if Ariane were taken back into the bosom of her family, you would no longer be the Donner heir..."

"What do you want?" Gwydion hissed.

"I am giving you a chance, Gwydion Donner, to align yourself with the winning side--"

Gwydion snarled, "You're out of your mind, Malfoy, if you think I would ever join the Death Eaters!"

"My Lord has great power, Gwydion, and willingly shares that power with those who serve him," Lucius said in a soft, seductive voice.

"Come on, Gilbert, we're leaving," Gwydion said. He was just placing his hand on the doorknob when Lucius said:

"Power enough to permanently eliminate all rivals to the Donner title."

Gwydion hesitated for a moment, then said firmly, "I am the Donner heir. My mother will never forgive Ariane, and any talk of Dylan and Mathias having children is pure speculation. I don't need your help, Malfoy."

"What about revenge, then?" Malfoy whispered, still in that seductive voice. Gwydion froze, his hand still on the doorknob. "Wouldn't you like revenge on your sister who betrayed you, on the aunt and uncle who humiliated you and turned you and your brother into beasts? Those three years must have been long ones, Gwydion. Did you retain your mind, Gwydion, a man trapped in the body of a beast? Or did your mind turn bestial as well? The latter, I think, judging by your brother. Can you remember what it was like to think like a beast, to know nothing but the need to feed and rut and flee from predators--"

There was a murderous look in Gwydion's gray eyes, and he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Lucius. "Shut up!"

Lucius stared back at him coolly, with no fear in his eyes. "If you kill me, Gwydion, you kill any chance of gaining revenge. You kill any chance of curing your brother."

Gwydion slowly lowered his wand. "What are you talking about?" he asked, panting a little from the effort it took not to kill the smug bastard sitting in front of him. "Gilbert has seen the best healers in the wizarding world, and they all say that the damage done to his mind is permanent."

Gilbert looked down at his feet, feeling ashamed although he did not know exactly why.

Lucius reached into a pocket on the inside of his robe, pulled out a small glass bottle, and set it on the table. Gwydion reached over and picked it up, looking at it carefully. "What is this?" he asked.

"A token of good faith on my part," Lucius replied. "A gift to you, with no strings attached. All I ask is that you think about what I have said tonight."

"What is it?" Gwydion repeated impatiently.

"A Mind Restoration Potion," Lucius replied, smiling as Gwydion gasped in surprise. "It can restore your brother to sanity--though the effect is only temporary, of course. But there is more where that came from; as I said, my Lord is generous to those who serve him."

"How do I know this is not really a poison?" Gwydion asked, but his voice was breathless and he could not take his eyes off the bottle in his hands.

"Give it to me," Lucius said. Gwydion hesitated, then reluctantly handed it over. Lucius pulled out the stopper, took a small sip, then handed it back to Gwydion. "As you can see, it is not poisonous. I had anticipated your reaction." Lucius smiled sardonically. "Fortunately, it has no effect, ill or otherwise, on someone whose mind is not damaged. There should still be enough left to restore your brother's mind for about six hours."

Gwydion stared at the bottle, then looked into his brother's dull, confused eyes, torn between his mistrust of Lucius Malfoy and his desire to help Gilbert.

"Brother?" Gilbert whispered. "Will that potion help me?"

"Yes," Gwydion said slowly. "I think so."

"Please," Gilbert said, holding out his hand. He had just enough sanity left to know that there was something wrong with him, retained just enough of his memory to yearn after the old self that he no longer truly remembered.

Gwydion handed him the bottle, and Gilbert downed it in one gulp. "Brother?" he asked anxiously. "Are you all right?" He turned to Lucius, saying, "If this is a trick, I'll kill you, Malfoy--"

"Brother?" Gilbert said, and Gwydion's attention snapped back to his twin. His gray eyes looked clear and unclouded for the first time in years. "I...I feel as if a fog has been lifted from my mind..."

"What do you remember?" Gwydion asked, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and staring into his eyes.

"I remember that we...that I..." Gilbert's voice broke off, and he looked ashamed. "I remember that night with Goewin," he whispered. "And I remember Uncle Math summoning us to him; I remember how angry he looked. He turned us into beasts..." Gilbert began to shiver. "Those years were like a nightmare. I remember him turning us back into men, but everything between then and now is fuzzy and unclear, like a dream. I feel awake for the first time in years..."

Gwydion's eyes filled with tears and he embraced his brother. "How touching," Lucius drawled, and the two brothers turned to look at him. Lucius stood and headed for the door. "Enjoy your little reunion--for as long as it lasts."

"Wait!" Gwydion cried. "Do you have more of the potion?"

A very satisfied smile slowly spread across Lucius Malfoy's face. "Of course. But that is the only free sample you are getting."

Gilbert and Gwydion looked at each other. "What do you want, Lucius?" Gwydion asked hoarsely.

"You know what I want," Lucius replied softly. The brothers still hesitated. "Well, think it over," Lucius said in a more brisk tone. Then he added, smiling at Gilbert maliciously, "While you are still able to think, that is. You can reach me by owl, Gwydion, when you make your decision. I hope you make the right choice; you will find the rewards of serving my Master to be great...far beyond a steady supply of Mind Restoration Potion. If you play your cards right, you can be Lord of far more than the Donner estates, Gwydion..." He brushed past the two men and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Lucius left the inn, laughing to himself. The Dark Lord had not yet completely given up on Ariane and Dylan, but Gwydion didn't have to know that. Once Gwydion and his brother took the Mark, it would be too late to change their minds. Perhaps if he was lucky, Lucius would be able to bring the entire Donner family under the Dark Lord's control, and his Master would be very, very pleased with him...

*** 

Harry and his friends were deeply depressed after Harry was banned from the Quidditch team. The one thing that cheered them up slightly was Hagrid's return to Hogwarts--although that alarmed them as much as it cheered them, because Hagrid looked awful, as if he had been beaten, and he was vague about how he had gotten injured.

Meanwhile, Hermione was decidedly cool to Dylan after the match. When they ran into each other at the library one day, she said in a cold voice, "Nice song."

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Dylan protested. "You know that wasn't my idea! It was--"

"I know, I know," Hermione replied impatiently. "It was all Draco's fault, right? But someday, Dylan, you're going to have to stand up for what you believe in, unless you want to be Draco's lackey all your life!"

She walked off in a huff, and Dylan stared after her, feeling angry and ashamed at the same time. Hermione did not realize how right she was, Dylan thought grimly. Someday soon, he was going to have to make a choice--permanent and irrevocable--about which side he was on. Perhaps this was all for the best; there was no way he could continue a friendship with a Gryffindor if he became a Death Eater.

But Dylan found that he missed her, and a couple of weeks later, sent his owl Blodwen to her with an envelope...

As Hermione opened the letter, a small purple flower--slightly squashed from being stuffed into an envelope--fell out into her lap. The letter inside said only, "Can we still be friends? Dylan." The letter was clear enough, but she was puzzled by the flower, and Hermione was never one to let a puzzle go unsolved. So she went to the library (as Dylan knew she would), and after a little research, discovered that the flower was a hyacinth, and that in the Language of Flowers, a purple hyacinth meant "I'm sorry" or "please forgive me". She smiled to herself, wondering where he had obtained a blossom so late in the year, and sent back an unsigned reply that simply said, "Yes."

They had little chance to talk to each other, but smiled and exchanged brief greetings when they passed in the halls or bumped into each other at the library, and as the term drew to a close, Blodwen dropped off a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper and ribbon. Hermione sent Dylan a present of her own: an herbology text on magical flowers. She didn't put her name on the package in case one of his Slytherin roommates happened to see it, but used wrapping paper with a floral design and topped it off with a big purple bow. Dylan, of course, knew immediately who had sent it, but his Slytherin friends took no notice of it because Dylan had already received a deluge of gifts from his many female admirers.

*** 

As Christmas drew near, Harry looked forward to spending the holidays with the Weasleys because he desperately wanted to get away from school. But he felt guilty when he thought of Sirius spending Christmas alone in that gloomy house with only Kreacher for company. But then they all ended up spending the holidays with Sirius after all, after Harry had the vision of Mr. Weasley being attacked by a giant snake, which turned out to be true: since his house was closer to the hospital than the Weasleys', Sirius invited them to stay with him until Mr. Weasley was well.

Christmas morning arrived, and Harry felt full of good cheer. Instead of people opening presents in their rooms, as they usually did at school, Mrs. Weasley insisted that everyone come down and open their presents together under the huge Christmas tree Sirius had put up. Harry and Ron hurriedly got dressed and ran downstairs, joined by Hermione. Mrs. Weasley smiled at them as she went through the huge pile of presents under the tree and began sorting them into stacks. She pointed to three good-sized piles of presents and said, "Those are yours, dears, but do wait till everyone comes down before opening them." Ron groaned impatiently and began shaking and poking at his presents until his mother scolded him, "Stop that!"

But soon enough, the other inhabitants of the house arrived, the adults yawning, and the Weasley children rushing eagerly to the Christmas tree. Then Harry's mouth dropped open, for descending the staircase with Lupin and Blackmore was Professor Snape, who was looking cross and more than a little embarrassed.

"Merlin's Beard!" Ron exclaimed. "What's _he_ doing here!?"

"Shh!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Professor Snape is a member of the Order, you know."

Ron subsided, still gawping at Snape, but Mrs. Weasley had no such control over Sirius. "What are _you_ doing here!?" Sirius snarled. "I don't recall inviting you!"

"I'm a member of the Order, Black," Snape said with a sneer. "I don't need an invitation. Besides, I assure you that spending the holidays with you is not my idea of a good time. It was--"

Lupin started to open his mouth, but Blackmore interrupted, "It was MY idea, Sirius. Severus had some information to pass along anyway, and I told him I would like to spend the holidays together with my former students. My family and most of my old friends are dead, and I cannot contact the ones that remain while I am in hiding. So you, Remus, and Severus are the closest thing to family that I have left."

Sirius had opened his mouth to protest, but closed it with a snap. He obviously didn't like the idea, but it was difficult to argue with Blackmore; it would only make him look cruel and churlish if he attempted to deprive her of the company of the few friends that remained from her past. Besides, Sirius, along with Lupin and Snape, still seemed to be slightly in awe of their old teacher. 

Blackmore smiled pleasantly as Sirius sulked. She plucked a strand of silver tinsel garland off the tree and made a wreath for her hair, and wrapped the remainder around Bane's neck. The bird cocked his head and paused to admire his reflection in one of the large glass ornaments hanging from the tree. Meanwhile, Lupin and Snape sat on the floor next to each other beside their presents. Harry noted, with a little stab of malicious glee, that Snape's pile was much smaller than everyone else's. Actually, he was surprised that Snape had gotten any presents at all!

Harry resolved not to let Snape spoil his Christmas, and soon the children were happily tearing open their presents.

"Thanks for the Broom Compass, Harry, it's excellent!" said Ron. 

"Thanks for the book, Harry!" Hermione said happily. "I've been wanting that New Theory of Numerology for ages! Oh! And thank you for the perfume, Ron!" She opened the cap and took a little sniff. "It's really unusual."

"No problem. Er...thanks for the homework planner."

Hermione opened a small box and took out a pair of small silver earrings wrought in the shape of roses. "Oh!" she exclaimed softly, blushing slightly.

"They're lovely, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Who are they from?"

"Dylan Rosier," Hermione said, still blushing.

"What?!" exclaimed Ron and Snape simultaneously, although Ron sounded angry while Snape sounded shocked.

"They're probably hexed!" Ron snapped.

"Don't be silly, Ron!" Hermione retorted. "Dylan's very nice; I don't know why you always assume the worst of him."

"Maybe because he's the son of a Death Eater," grumbled Ron, but in a low voice, casting a nervous look at Snape.

"Let me see those," Snape ordered, and Hermione reluctantly handed the earrings to him. He looked them over carefully, then gave them back. "There's no enchantment on them."

"We checked all the presents to make sure there were no nasty spells hidden on them before bringing them into the house, just to be safe," Lupin added.

"I didn't know you and Mr. Rosier were friendly, Miss Granger," Snape said; he didn't sound very pleased about it.

"We met on the train platform last year before school started," Hermione said, blushing again. "We're in different classes, of course, but we study together in the library sometimes." The look on Ron's face said this was news to him. "Dylan says it would cause trouble for him if Draco Malfoy found out we were friends--" Then she hastily cut off the rest of her sentence, remembering that she was talking to Draco's Head of House.

"Some friend, if he's ashamed to be seen with you," Ron sneered.

"It's not like that!" Hermione protested. "Dylan's on probation, just because of who his father was, which isn't fair at all, and if Malfoy made trouble for him, he might get expelled--"

"A likely story!" said Ron.

"No, Miss Granger is correct," Snape said, to the children's astonishment. There was a thoughtful look on his on his face, and he was tracing his thin lips with one finger in an absent-minded fashion.

"Then you won't mention this to Draco, will you, Professor?" Hermione asked nervously.

Snape blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and said in a cold voice, "Your personal life is of no interest to me, Miss Granger, so I see no reason to discuss it with anyone, including Draco Malfoy."

Hermione gave Snape another nervous look, but he had turned away to watch Lupin open his presents, so she put the earrings on, saying, "It's really quite clever of him, don't you think?" Harry and Ron stared at her blankly, and she added impatiently, "Giving me rose-shaped earrings; you know--roses, Rosier?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Ron muttered.

Meanwhile, Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Just like his father..." 

Mrs. Weasley said brightly, attempting to change the subject, "Well now, children, there are still lots of presents to open!" Snape seemed inclined to let the subject drop as well, so the children turned their attention back to their gifts.

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled Practical Defense Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts. He flipped through the first volume eagerly; he could see that it was going to be highly useful in his plans for the D.A. "Thanks, this is really great!" Harry said enthusiastically. "It'll come in really handy for--" He paused, looking at Snape's sour face, and finished a little lamely, "--For my studies."

"You're welcome, Harry," Lupin smiled. "Severus, aren't you going to open your presents?"

Snape began opening his packages, looking as if he would rather be back in his dungeon at Hogwarts. He opened several presents that were gifts ("Bribes," Ron whispered darkly) from the parents of his Slytherin students: boxes of expensive chocolates, equally expensive bottles of wine, and a couple of spell books. Snape set them to one side indifferently. Mrs. Weasley had given the Potions Master what she gave everyone else--a hand-knitted sweater (in Slytherin green) and some mince pies. "Er...thank you, Molly," Snape said, although without much enthusiasm.

"You're welcome, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly.

Meanwhile, Blackmore was opening her presents, and unwrapped a book: Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven. "Thank you, Severus!" she exclaimed, and Snape flushed and mumbled something that might have resembled, "You're welcome."

"Snape gave someone a present!?" Ron hissed in shock.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed back.

"He can't give us detention when we're not in school, can he?"

"Shh!"

"It's Bane's favorite book," Blackmore was saying happily. "I used to have a copy, of course, but most of my possessions were destroyed when the Death Eaters attacked my house..."

To the children's further surprise, Snape had given Mrs. Weasley a present as well--a large bottle of healing potion. "Thank you, Severus!" she said. "This will come in very useful, what with the children always getting into mischief--"

Snape mumbled an unintelligible reply, looking more than ever like he wanted to slink back to his dungeon office.

Harry continued to open his presents--a furry brown wallet with fangs from Hagrid, a box of Every-Flavor Beans from Ron, and a small, working model of a Firebolt from Tonks--but he also kept one eye on Snape as he did so. 

Snape unwrapped a box of Chocolate Frogs from Dumbledore, and a tin of fancy individually wrapped cookies from someone in Japan named Kamiyama. Lupin got a small wooden fox statuette from the same person. Blackmore gave Snape a thick tome bound in black leather, some sort of grimoire on potion-brewing, and Snape thanked her with a great deal more enthusiasm than he had shown for the sweater. Then, to Harry's shock, the next present Snape opened was from Lupin. It was a large book whose cover was illustrated with a colorful painting of a fox dressed in robes, standing on two legs like a man. Harry had no idea what it was about, because the words printed on the cover were not in English; they looked Asian, but he wasn't sure exactly what language it was.  Hermione knew, of course. "I didn't know you could read Japanese, Professor Snape!" she said without thinking.

Snape scowled at her and said coldly, "There is a great deal you do not know about me, Miss Granger."

Blackmore leaned over and peered at the book with interest. "What is it about?" she asked.

Snape read the cover and flipped through the book. "It appears to deal with legends and lore concerning kitsune and other Japanese shapeshifters." Blackmore cleared her throat expectantly and gave him a stern look. Snape looked sulky, like a schoolboy who has just been reprimanded by his teacher, but he turned to Lupin and said, rather ungraciously, "Yes, well, er...thank you, Lupin. It doesn't deal with potions, but I suppose it's not totally useless."

Harry glared at Snape, but Lupin didn't seem to be offended. "You're welcome, Severus," he said cheerfully.

"Here," Snape said gruffly, picking up a package and thrusting it at Lupin without looking at him.

"For me?" Lupin said, sounding surprised, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Why, thank you, Severus!"

"Oh, just shut up and open it!" Snape snarled, his face turning red. Harry felt his jaw drop open again, and he heard Hermione and Ron gasp in surprise. Snape got Lupin a Christmas present?! Harry could not have been more surprised if Lord Voldemort had walked into the room dressed as Father Christmas.

Beneath the wrappings was a scroll. Lupin unrolled it, revealing a simple but beautiful drawing of a wolf done in black ink. "Why, Severus!" he said breathlessly, the mischief gone from his voice and eyes. "It's beautiful! Thank you so much!"

Mrs. Weasley looked shocked, though she tried to hide it with her usual good-natured smile. Ginny, Fred, and George exchanged looks of disbelief. Blackmore smiled, looking very amused, while Sirius looked not only surprised, but furious. Harry wasn't sure why; perhaps he thought Snape was trying to taunt Lupin with the fact that he was a werewolf? But Lupin looked touched and pleased, while Snape didn't have the nasty smile on his face that he usually did when he was taunting someone. His face had turned even redder, and he refused to look Lupin in the eye. He had hunched his shoulders and was staring down at the floor, looking for all the world like a child in class who hadn't completed his homework and was doing his very best to become invisible.

"It's nothing," Snape mumbled in such a low voice that Harry could barely hear him. "Professor Kamiyama sent it to me, and I had no use for it, so..." His voice trailed off and he glanced up and saw that he had no presents left, so he started to inch back, muttering, "Well then, if we're all done here..."

Lupin's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, preventing him from leaving. "Not so fast, Severus! I believe the children still have a few gifts left to open." Snape flashed him an almost plaintive look, which Lupin returned with a stern one.

"Oh, don't be a Scrooge, Severus," Blackmore said lightly. "It won't kill you to be sociable one day out of the year." Snape looked as if he disagreed, but remained in place, yanking his arm free of Lupin's grasp, a very sullen expression on his face.

The children continued opening presents, until everyone else was done, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione each had just one gift left. Harry picked up the heavy, rectangular-shaped package and read the tag which said, "To Harry, From Lupin and Professor Snape". His jaw dropped open yet again, and he heard Ron yelp, "Professor Snape?!"

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply.

"Er...thank you, Professor Lupin, Professor Snape," Hermione said in a polite voice, but her face was pale and she looked as if she were about to faint.

Ginny's mouth was hanging wide open like Harry's, while Fred sorted through the empty wrappings on the floor, saying, "How come we didn't get a present, too?"

"Do you really _want_ a present from Professor Snape?" George hissed under his breath.

"Fred, George!" Mrs. Weasley scolded.

Sirius looked shocked, Blackmore still looked amused, and Snape said to Lupin, "Damn it, Lupin! I told you not to put my name on the tags!"

"But Severus, I didn't want to take all the credit," Lupin said innocently, his blue eyes merry once more. "They're actually from you; you paid for them."

"LUPIN!" Snape roared, sounding outraged, and his face was redder than ever.

"Go ahead and open your presents," Lupin said to the children cheerfully, apparently unconcerned by the fact that Snape's hands were twitching as if he wanted to wrap them around Lupin's neck.

"Oh, thank you, Professor Snape!" Hermione exclaimed with real pleasure. Her present was a thick book entitled Advanced Potion Brewing. The look on Snape's face changed from angry to mortified, and he looked as if he would gladly have crawled under a rock if one had been available.

Harry and Ron received the same gift: A Beginner's Encyclopedia of Potion Ingredients. "Er...thank you," Harry said, with about as much enthusiasm as Snape had shown for his sweater.

Mrs. Weasley glared at Ron until he mumbled, "Yeah, thanks."

"You're welcome," Lupin said with a smile, and looked at Snape expectantly.

"Don't thank _me_!" Snape snarled. "It was all Lupin's idea! I just gave him the money for it since he seemed to be rather short on funds!" He sneered at Lupin's shabby robes, but Lupin just smiled at him like an indulgent parent overlooking a child's temper tantrum. 

"Severus did help me choose the titles since potions aren't really my specialty," Lupin added helpfully.

Snape's face was gradually changing from red to purple. "Only because you kept badgering me about it until I gave in just so you would leave me alone!" he retorted. "And besides," he said with a sneer, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley need all the help they can get in Potions. If they fail my class this year, I'll be stuck teaching them again next year, and I would do almost anything to prevent that!" He glanced at Hermione, but apparently was unable to come up with anything insulting to say about her. 

"A simple 'you're welcome' would have sufficed, Severus," Blackmore said mildly.

Snape made a low growling noise in his throat, but the blood was beginning to recede from his face, restoring it back to its natural sallow color.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a nervous look and said cheerily, "Well, I'll go start breakfast..."

"Can I go _now_?" Snape asked Lupin, with a slightly whiny note to his voice.

"You can take your presents up to your room, certainly," Lupin replied. "But don't forget you promised Branwen you'd stay for dinner. And besides--" A mischievous gleam twinkled in his eyes, and he leaned over and whispered something in Snape's ear. Snape's face turned bright red, and he stared at Lupin with a look of mingled outrage and embarrassment. Without saying a word, he jumped up and fled back up the staircase as if there were a pack of demons on his heels. Harry would have given almost anything to have known what Lupin said to Snape.

"Behave yourself, Mr. Lupin," Blackmore scolded him, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. Bane was making a loud cawing noise as if he found it funny as well.

"I don't know what you mean, Professor Blackmore," Lupin said with a look of wide-eyed innocence. "I don't know why Severus is so touchy; some people just don't like the holidays, I guess." He began gathering up Snape's gifts, which he had left on the floor in his haste to flee. "I'll just go and take these up to him."

"Let the slimy git pick up his own presents," Sirius said with a scowl.

"Now, now, Sirius, let's show some Christmas spirit, shall we?" Lupin said, but then an owl appeared, flying into the room and dropping a large parcel on the floor. Mrs. Weasley, who had just been about to leave and go to the kitchen, looked at the box, burst into tears, and ran out of the room.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked in dismay.

Fred picked up the parcel and scowled at it. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper." He tore off the outer layer of brown paper, revealing a present wrapped in bright Christmas wrapping and ribbon. 

George turned the present over in his hands, then sorted through the discarded brown wrapping and said angrily, "He didn't even include a note asking how Dad is or anything!"

Lupin looked worried. "I'd better go talk to Molly."

"No," said Blackmore, rising to her feet. "You go see to Severus; I'll look after Molly." 

Blackmore headed towards the kitchen, and Lupin went upstairs with Snape's gifts. Sirius hesitated, still looking put out, then followed Blackmore out of the room. 

"Well, this has certainly been an interesting Christmas," Hermione said brightly.

 

Neither Lupin nor Professor Snape came down for breakfast, but none of the adults seemed particularly concerned about that, and the children were rather relieved that they didn't have to eat with Snape scowling at them across the table. Harry just hoped that Professor Snape hadn't killed Lupin for embarrassing him in front of everybody this morning. But Snape had seemed oddly cowed by Lupin, which was strange; he had clearly bought the Christmas presents for them at Lupin's insistence, and he had let Lupin prevent him from leaving the room when he obviously wanted to flee. It just didn't make sense; Snape was a little afraid of Blackmore, but he had never seemed to be afraid of Lupin before.

"Maybe Professor Snape's not so bad after all," Hermione said hopefully. "He is a member of the Order, after all. Maybe he was just acting like Professor Lupin made him buy us those presents because he was embarrassed about doing something nice. And it was nice of him to get us those books." 

Even though Lupin wasn't really a Professor anymore, Hermione tended to call him that because she said it was rude to just call him by his last name, and she didn't feel comfortable calling him by his first name. Harry had the same problem, although he had no trouble calling Sirius by his first name; he'd feel silly calling Sirius "Mr. Black". Maybe it was because Lupin had been their teacher; he certainly wouldn't have felt comfortable calling Professor McGonagall "Minerva," for instance...

Meanwhile, Ron was giving Hermione a disgusted look. "It's bad enough you feel sorry for that crazy house-elf Kreacher! Now you want us to start liking _Snape_?!"

"I didn't you say you had to like him, Ron," Hermione said impatiently. "I just said he can't be all bad. The Headmaster trusts him, after all. And Kreacher's not right in the head because of all those years of oppression! Which reminds me, I have a Christmas present for him--"

"Have you got a present for Snape, too?" Ron asked sarcastically. 

"No," Hermione replied, looking a little worried. "But I would have got him one if I had known he was going to give us something. Do you think St. Mungo's has a gift shop?" Hermione hurried off to fetch Kreacher's present, and perhaps ask Mrs. Weasley if the hospital had a gift shop; they were planning to visit Mr. Weasley there later in the day.

"I was being sarcastic!" shouted Ron, but Hermione was already out of earshot. 

Harry and Ron exchanged incredulous looks. "So why do you think Snape gave us Christmas presents?" Harry asked.

"Hell if I know!" said Ron. "Maybe the world's going to end!"

 

The world did not end, but the three children had another shock when they returned from visiting Mr. Weasley. There was Christmas music playing--it seemed to be coming from a magical music box that belonged to Lupin--and Blackmore was dancing with Lupin in the living room. Sirius was laughing, seeming to have recovered from his earlier bad mood, and Snape looked less sour than usual; in fact, he had a very faint smile on his face. That scene was startling enough, but what happened next was what really shocked them. The song was ending just as the children arrived home and spotted what was going on in the living room, but the four adults had not yet noticed them. Lupin let go of Blackmore and bowed to her, then the sorceress curtsied to Snape and said, "May I have the next dance, sir?" Snape scowled at her, but she refused to take no for an answer, grabbing him by the hand and hauling him to his feet. "Come, Severus, I thought you were too terrified of me to disobey me!" she said with a laugh.

"Well, I wouldn't want your demonic grandfather to put a curse on me," Snape grumbled, but in an almost good-natured tone. And to the children's shock, he began waltzing with Blackmore almost gracefully around the living room. Lupin was grinning widely, Sirius looked like he didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused, and Snape--Snape actually smiled and looked as if he were enjoying himself! 

The children stood there with their mouths hanging open until Sirius happened to glance up and said, "Don't look now, but we've got company."

Startled, Snape looked up and saw his three students. A horrified look appeared on his face and he jumped away from Blackmore so quickly that it almost seemed as if he had Apparated across the room. Lupin covered his mouth with both hands, but muffled little snorts of laughter kept escaping from between his fingers.

Snape started to beat a hasty retreat, but Hermione called out, "Professor Snape! Please wait a moment!"

"WHAT IS IT?!" he snarled, and Hermione flinched and turned pale. 

"Severus!" snapped Blackmore, her green eyes blazing with anger. He glared at her, but she held his gaze, staring him down as coldly and ruthlessly as he had ever stared down any unruly student in his classes. Harry felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat even though their anger wasn't directed at him; he understood why Snape, Lupin, and Sirius were still intimidated by her. Harry had never thought he would meet another teacher as imposing and frightening as Snape, but Blackmore was apparently more than a match for him; Harry shuddered a little at the sheer intensity crackling through the room like a thunderstorm about to break. Snape held her gaze for a very long moment, but it was he who finally dropped his eyes and looked away first.

Snape cleared his throat and said in a sullen, but more subdued manner, "Well, what is it, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was still a little pale. She timidly stepped forward and handed him a small package with a hand that trembled slightly. 

"What's this?" Snape asked with a frown, staring down at the red-and-green striped parcel in his hand.

"It appears to be a Christmas present, Severus," Lupin said helpfully, in a bright, chirpy tone, apparently having recovered from his fit of laughter. Snape glared at him.

"Um, I--I know it's not much, but I just wanted to thank you for the books you gave us," Hermione stammered nervously.

"That wasn't necessary," Snape growled, his face beginning to turn pink. "I told you it was all Lupin's idea!"

"Severus," Blackmore said in a stern tone of warning. Snape subsided and tore off the wrapping, revealing a green wool scarf.

"I know it's not much," Hermione repeated apologetically. "There wasn't much of a selection at the hospital gift shop--" She hadn't thought Snape would appreciate a postcard, a teddy bear, or anything with a Santa or reindeer embroidered on it. "--And I figured at least green is the color of Slytherin House..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"It's very nice, Hermione," Blackmore said firmly. "Isn't it, Severus?" 

That last sentence had been more of a command than a question, and Snape muttered, "Yes, well...thank you, Miss Granger." It came out sounding rather grudging, but Hermione smiled in relief.

"You're welcome, Professor Snape."

Snape glared at everyone in the room. "I think I've had all the holiday cheer I can stand for one day," he said in an acid tone of voice. "I'm going upstairs to rest." 

As he turned and walked towards the staircase, Blackmore called out, "Oh, Severus!"

"What now?!"

Blackmore did not seem to be at all put out by his surly tone. She glided up to him and said, "I know this wasn't exactly your idea of a good time. Thank you for spending Christmas with us; it meant a lot to me. And could you look up for a second?" She was smiling mischievously, and Snape gave her a suspicious look, then cast his gaze upwards and saw a small sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Snape's black eyes flew wide open, but before he could step away, his former teacher stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. Snape's face turned bright red, and for the second time that day, he ran up the stairs as if being pursued by demons.

Sirius jumped up and ran under the mistletoe. "Do I get a kiss too, Branwen?" he asked playfully, batting his eyelashes at her.

"It's Professor Blackmore to you, Mr. Black!" she said sternly, lifting a hand as if to slap him, but there was laughter in her eyes, and she gave him a peck on the cheek as well. Then, although Lupin was standing nowhere near the mistletoe, she walked over and kissed him for good measure. She noticed that the three children still seemed to be in a state of shock, and she smiled and said, "Don't mind Severus. I know he can be difficult at times, but he is a good person at heart." Sirius muttered something under his breath, and she gave him a sharp look as she added, "Just as I know Sirius is a good person at heart, even if he does behave like a spoiled brat at times." Then she left the room, softly singing, "On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...a raven in a Christmas tree..."

Lupin was laughing his head off while Sirius pouted and muttered, "She never had a sense of humor when we were in school!" Lupin picked up his music box and headed up the stairs, still chuckling. Mrs. Weasley poked her head in the doorway and called out that she needed some help in the kitchen, and Sirius left to help her, still looking rather sulky. The three children were left standing alone in the living room.

"Merlin's Beard!" gasped Ron. "Blackmore kissed Professor Snape! That's disgusting!"

Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face. "Do you suppose Professor Snape likes her?"

Harry's and Ron's jaws dropped open. "You mean like her, like a boy likes a girl kind of like?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, that would explain a lot," Hermione said calmly. "Why he stayed for Christmas, why he let Professor Lupin talk him into buying presents for us...maybe he wanted to impress her."

"How would buying presents for us impress her?" asked Ron dubiously.

"By showing her that he's a nice person!" Hermione said impatiently, giving him a you-just-don't-get-it look. Ron clutched at his throat and made gagging noises.

"I don't know," said Harry. "I can't picture Snape liking anybody that way..."

"Well, he _was_ dancing with her when we came in," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh my God!" Harry exclaimed, looking horrified. Snape in love? It was too bizarre to contemplate, and quite frankly, thinking about Snape and Blackmore together made him feel slightly ill. "You...you don't suppose she fancies _him_ , do you?" he stammered.   "Gross!" said Ron, making a face. "How could any woman fancy him! With that big nose and that greasy hair--"

"Professor Blackmore's not the shallow type," Hermione said in a lofty tone. "I'm sure she cares more about what's inside a person than about their looks. I mean, I know he's not a very nice person, but he is risking his life to help the Order--"

"So he says," muttered Ron.

"--So he can't be all bad. And she knew him when he was a boy, so maybe she knows some things about him we don't. Maybe he was nicer when he was younger."

"Not according to Sirius," Harry said skeptically.

"Well, Sirius isn't really all that objective about Snape, in case you haven't noticed," Hermione said. Harry bristled at the implied insult to his godfather, but Hermione didn't notice and continued, "And she did just kiss him under the mistletoe."

"Yeah, but on the cheek," Harry said desperately. He liked Branwen Blackmore, even though she was a little scary, and he didn't want her hooking up with a slimy git like Snape; surely she could do much better than him! "And she did kiss Sirius and Lupin too..."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ron announced; his face did look slightly green. He turned and ran off to the bathroom.

"You shouldn't have eaten all that candy before breakfast!" Hermione shouted as Harry ran after him. "I don't know," Hermione said musingly to no one in particular. "I think it's kind of romantic. And besides, if he falls in love, maybe he'll be nicer in class. Love tames the savage beast and all that..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was originally written before all seven books were out, and obviously certain things in canon turned out much differently than I had envisioned. Lucius turned out to be a loving father after all, but at the time, he seemed pretty cold, and I wasn't sure whether he actually loved Draco or only valued him as the heir to the Malfoy family. My portrayal of Lucius was partly inspired by the CoS movie: in the Quidditch scene, when Draco crashes at the end of the match, Lucius doesn't look at all concerned about his son, but only disgusted that Draco lost the game. That stuck in my mind, and contributed to my fanfic version of a cold, ambitious Lucius, who has no qualms about offering up his son to the Dark Lord, if necessary.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas from Snape's point of view; Occlumency lessons; and Dylan Rosier begins to question his desire to become a Death Eater.

This was not how Snape had planned to spend the holidays. He had wanted to spend Christmas alone with Lupin, in the werewolf's little cottage in the woods, but Lupin insisted on spending it at Black's house. Molly would need moral support, as well as help looking after the children, since Arthur was in the hospital, Lupin had declared. As far as Snape was concerned, their duties as members of the Order did not include baby-sitting the Weasley brood, but Lupin had always been a soft touch. Lupin had also insisted that he wanted to spend Christmas with Black and Professor Blackmore.

Snape was furious and jealous; he did not want to share Lupin with Black during Christmas--wasn't it bad enough that Lupin was already living with Black? But Lupin could be incredibly stubborn beneath the deceptively meek and passive demeanor he projected most of the time, and he refused to be swayed by any of Snape's arguments.

"Are you saying you'd rather spend Christmas with Black than with me?" Snape snarled.

"I'm saying I want to spend Christmas with all the people I care about," Lupin said, calmly but firmly. "That includes you, as well as Sirius, Harry, and Branwen." Snape scowled at him, and Lupin said softly, "Think of Branwen, Severus. Fourteen years have passed her by, leaving all of her family--except for Regan and Araqiel, of course--and most of her friends dead. We three are practically all she has left. We should not leave her alone at Christmastime."

Snape sulked; he hated it when Lupin made him feel guilty. "She has Black and the Weasleys," he whined, knowing he was only delaying the inevitable.

"She likes Molly and Arthur, but she was never particularly close to them in the old days. Come to think of it, she was never particularly close to anyone. It's odd," Lupin said thoughtfully, "but those years in the Demon Realm have changed her for the better--"

"Speak for yourself," Snape muttered. "I think they've turned her into a meddling voyeur. It's bad enough having Dumbledore prying into our personal lives as it is--"

"--and made her warmer, more human," Lupin continued, ignoring Snape. "Or maybe she's just more willing to show that side of herself now. For some reason, she feels closer to the three of us than to the other members of the Order, even those she worked with in the past. Maybe because we were her students, and it seems she cared about her students in an almost motherly fashion, even though we weren't aware of it at the time. I think she cares in particular for you, Severus." Lupin smiled a little. "Sirius is a little put out that you seem to be her favorite, you know. She has done a great deal for us, both now and in the past, and we should do what we can for her. I think she would like all of us to be together for Christmas."

"Oh, very well," Snape grumbled. He almost threatened to spend Christmas alone if Lupin wouldn't join him, but he was afraid Lupin would call his bluff. And the thought of a Christmas without Lupin was incredibly bleak and uninviting...

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said, putting his arms around Snape and kissing him on the cheek, all meek and affectionate now that he had gotten what he wanted. He sulked for a little while more, letting Lupin cajole him into a better mood, which happened fairly quickly. Once Lupin began nuzzling at Snape's neck and sliding his hands beneath Snape's robes, his body forgot that it was mad at Lupin; the stubborn little voice inside his head resisted a bit longer, but it was no match for Lupin's nimble hands and the come-hither look in his blue eyes, and Snape sighed and gave in. His last rational thought was, _Lupin claims he isn't an alpha wolf, so why is it that I always seem to end up doing whatever he wants...?_

 

Lupin really was a conniving little son-of-a-bitch, with a deviousness almost worthy of a Slytherin. After lulling him into relaxing and letting his guard down after an evening of lovemaking, Lupin hit Snape with his next "request": that since they were all spending Christmas together, they ought to get Christmas presents for Blackmore, the Weasleys, and the children.

"Absolutely not!" Snape shouted. "I was going to get something for Branwen, but that's it!"

"Molly's worked so hard cleaning and cooking for all of us--" Lupin protested.

"I never asked her to! I'm quite capable of looking after myself," Snape huffed, but Lupin made puppy-dog eyes at him, and he reluctantly said he supposed that he could spare a bottle or two of healing potion for her--no doubt she could use it, especially with the two older Weasley boys always trying ridiculous and sometimes dangerous experiments. "But I draw the line at getting anything for the brats!" he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, Fred and George aren't in your class anymore, but since you work rather closely with Harry, Ron, and Hermione--"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" roared Snape. 

In the past, Lupin would have been intimidated by his anger, and backed off. But Lupin seemed to have lost his fear of Snape--or more accurately, his fear of Snape leaving him--right about the time Snape had first said the words "I love you" in Lupin's office, right before he left Hogwarts. Lupin kept nagging, coaxing, and wheedling, ignoring Snape's shouted arguments and stony silence, until Snape finally gave in just to shut him up.

"All right!" Snape shouted. "Enough!" He threw a pouch of coins at Lupin. "Do whatever you like, just don't put my name on the gift tags!"

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said sweetly. "I wanted to get the children some Potions texts; perhaps you could recommend some titles for me?"

"Weasley and Potter are hopeless, and could use some basic remedial texts, while Miss Granger is more competent..." Snape muttered as he scribbled a few titles on a piece of parchment. He paused and looked at Lupin through narrowed eyes. "I mean it, Lupin; as far as the brats are concerned, these gifts are from you; if you put my name on them, there will be a wolfskin rug lining the floor of my office. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

Snape scowled; he didn't trust Lupin when he wore that look on his face. "Anything else you'd like me to do, Lupin?" he asked sarcastically. "Perhaps buy a gift for Sirius Black while I'm at it?"

"I did consider it," Lupin said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But Sirius would probably have a stroke if you did."

 

Snape should have known better than to trust Lupin. It was bad enough that Lupin made him sit and open presents with everyone in a twisted parody of family togetherness, but he had broken his promise and put Snape's name on the gift tags after all. The children looked like they were going to faint, and Snape felt the urge to go crawl under a rock in complete and utter humiliation. He had to forcibly restrain himself from acting on his next urge, which was to throttle Lupin. Finally, all the presents were opened, and Snape whined, "Can I go _now_?"

"You can take your presents up to your room, certainly," Lupin replied cheerfully. "But don't forget you promised Branwen you'd stay for dinner. And besides--" Lupin leaned over and whispered, "I had planned to spend the day having some truly amazing sex with you."

Snape's face turned beet red, and he stared at Lupin in horror and outrage--he certainly hoped none of the children had overheard Lupin's whisper--and got up and fled to his room.

Lupin entered the room a few minutes later, his arms full of their presents, which he set on the floor. "I'm going to kill you, Lupin," Snape said, a murderous look in his black eyes.

That look would have struck fear into the hearts of his students, but Lupin looked unconcerned. "Oh really?" he asked calmly. "That would be a pity. Then we'll never get around to having that amazing sex I promised you."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can deliver on that promise, Lupin? 'Amazing' is a very strong word, and I have very high standards."

Lupin just smiled, and began unfastening his robes with tantalizing slowness. "We'll never know if I can live up to those standards or not if we don't try..."

Snape licked his lips and jumped up, his anger suddenly forgotten. "Let me," he purred, as he took over undressing Lupin. "It wouldn't be fair to not let me unwrap my own Christmas present..."

Lupin giggled. "I should have wrapped a bow around myself, then!"

 

Snape found that Lupin did indeed live up to, and even surpassed, his "very high standards". He was in a much better mood when they finally emerged from their rooms and went downstairs to get some lunch, and his mood was further improved to find that the Weasleys and the brats had gone to the hospital to visit Weasley senior. Even the fact that Black ate lunch with them and Branwen didn't irk Snape as much it normally would have.

After lunch, Branwen was in the mood to hear some Christmas music, so Lupin ran upstairs to fetch his music box. Branwen and Lupin sang along to some Christmas carols, and even coaxed Black and Snape into reluctantly joining them; Snape was still feeling mellow enough not to put up much of a fight. He sang softly, being a little self-conscious, but Branwen told him he had a lovely voice, and Snape blushed but preened a little in spite of himself, and felt a sharp little surge of malicious satisfaction at the look of sulky jealousy on Black's face.

Perhaps trying to ward off an argument between her two former students, Branwen asked Black to dance with her; he looked surprised, but accepted her request with pleasure. Snape watched with a combination of both bemusement and amusement as Branwen took turns dancing with Black and Lupin. How odd, to see the teacher he had so admired and feared, acting as merry and frivolous as a young girl...

Then Branwen was curtsying before him, saying, "May I have the next dance, sir?" He scowled at her, but she dragged him to his feet against his will--she was much stronger than she looked; it must be her demon blood. "Come, Severus, I thought you were too terrified of me to disobey me!" she laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't want your demonic grandfather to put a curse on me," Snape grumbled as he gave in and danced with her, but secretly he was enjoying himself a little. Somewhere along the way, without his really being aware of it, Professor Blackmore--Branwen--had become his friend as well as his teacher and colleague. She had once told him, when he was still her student, that a true friend was a rare treasure. And certainly, Snape had so few friends that he realized he ought to treasure the ones he had. Not that he would ever tell her that, of course. But dancing with Branwen reminded him of the time he had danced with Lupin last Christmas, and Snape grinned, wondering what Black's reaction would be if he danced with Lupin next...

Then Black said, "Don't look now, but we've got company," and Snape looked up to see his three students staring at him in shock. He hastily let go of Branwen and jumped away from her. Lupin made a very poor attempt to stifle his laughter, and Snape shot a quick glare his way before turning to flee the room.

But then Granger was calling out to him, and Snape, whose temper was near its breaking point, shouted, "WHAT IS IT?!" Granger cringed in fear, and Branwen suddenly turned back into stern Professor Blackmore, glaring at in him with near-demonic fury, and he found himself backing down, as if he were a child again. It turned out that Granger had only wanted to give him a Christmas present, in reciprocation for the gifts that Lupin had forced him to buy, and Snape felt his face flush. 

_Damn that meddling werewolf!_ Snape thought, telling himself that he was annoyed, and not one bit touched by her gesture. Really. To add insult to injury, Blackmore made him thank the girl. Honestly, she was acting like his mother, which was perfectly ridiculous, considering that physically, if not chronologically, he was now older than she was. Or at least, she was acting the way Snape imagined a stereotypical mother would; his real mother would never have let a Muggle-born girl into her home. Which reminded him that Dylan Rosier, who was one of his most promising students--provided that Snape could keep him from becoming a Death Eater--had apparently developed some kind of relationship, or at least friendship, with the girl. Wonderful. _What's next?_ the sarcastic little voice in his head asked disgruntledly. _Is Lucius Malfoy going to start championing house-elf rights?_

Snape announced to the room that he had endured all the holiday cheer he could stand for one day, and once again turned to leave, and this time Blackmore stopped him. "I know this wasn't exactly your idea of a good time," she said, sounding almost contrite. "Thank you for spending Christmas with us; it meant a lot to me. And could you look up for a second?" Snape gave her a suspicious look before glancing up to see that he was standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. Before he could react, Blackmore kissed him on the cheek. Snape saw the jaws of his three students drop open in shock. Snape blushed and fled up the stairs, cursing meddling werewolves and teachers under his breath. Lupin was a very bad influence on Blackmore, or maybe it was the other way around; he wasn't really sure, but the two of them together were a very bad combination indeed...

Lupin arrived, chuckling to himself, a minute later. Snape glared at him. "It's not my fault this time, Severus," he laughed, nuzzling Snape's neck affectionately. "It's Branwen you should be mad at, not me."

"This whole thing is your fault," Snape said stubbornly, resolving not to forgive Lupin so easily this time. "If you hadn't insisted on giving the brats presents, if you hadn't insisted that we stay here for Christmas in the first place..." Lupin continued to nuzzle and kiss and caress him, but Snape remained unmoved.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin whispered. "Let me make it up to you." He unfastened his robe and the top few buttons of his shirt, then lay down on the bed and tilted his head back, exposing his throat in that wolfish gesture of submission that never failed to arouse Snape. He wrestled with his self-control for a few moments; self-control lost. Snape leaned over and bit down hard on soft, white flesh of Lupin's neck; the werewolf moaned eagerly, and whatever shreds of self-control that Snape still had left instantly dissolved...

Much later, Snape realized that he had ruined yet another one of Lupin's shabby set of robes. One sleeve was torn nearly completely off the robe, and there were shirt buttons scattered all over the floor. "My, but you were eager," Lupin giggled, trailing a finger down Snape's bare chest.

"And whose fault is that?" Snape asked pointedly.

"Mine," Lupin said happily, sounding proud rather than apologetic.

Snape shook his head slightly, biting back a smile; Lupin really was becoming incorrigible. He reached under the bed, and pulled out a brightly-wrapped package. "I wasn't going to give this to you after the stunt you pulled," he grumbled, "but since I ruined the robe you were wearing..."

"Another present?" Lupin exclaimed, tearing off the wrapping. "Oh, Severus, it's beautiful!" It was a dark blue robe, made of wool that was as plush and soft as velvet, embroidered in a celtic knot design with gold and silver thread around the edges. 

Lupin's reaction to his gift pleased Snape, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Well, of course I wasn't going to give that to you in front of Potter and company!"

"Can I wear it to dinner tonight?" Lupin asked, stroking the soft wool.

"Of course, since I ruined your other robe, and I'd rather you didn't prance down to the dinner table naked," Snape retorted with a straight face, and Lupin giggled.

"I don't 'prance,' Severus."

Snape ignored him and continued, "On the condition that you don't tell anyone who gave it to you; if anyone asks, say Dumbledore sent it to you or something. I mean it this time, Lupin; I will kill you if you tell Molly or the brats that it was from me!" But he was uncomfortably aware that his threats were largely empty ones, and what was worse, Lupin was aware of it as well. Somehow the balance of power between them had shifted...no, that wasn't really true. Lupin had always had power over him; he had been obsessed with him ever since they were boys, and that was why he had hated Lupin so much when they were younger, because he had never needed anyone that way before, and he had hated the way that made him feel--weak and helpless.

Lupin seemed to sense his distress, and reached up to stroke his cheek. "All right, Severus, if you insist."

"I do insist!" Snape said sharply. "Remember, you promised to keep our relationship a secret from the children and the other members of the Order, except for Branwen and Black!"

"I remember, Severus," Lupin said quietly. "And I will keep my word." 

But he looked sad, which made Snape feel guilty. "It's for your protection and mine," he said in a defensive tone, although Lupin wasn't arguing with him. "If the brats let it slip at school, and word got back to Lucius Malfoy--" But he knew that wasn't the real reason he wanted to keep it secret, and he suspected Lupin knew that, too.

"Shh, Severus," Lupin said, laying a finger across Snape's lips. "I won't say anything, I promise. Just tell me one thing."

"What?" Snape asked, a little suspiciously.

"Do you love me?" Lupin's lips were curved in a playful smile, but his eyes looked anxious.

"Of course I do," Snape snapped, but Lupin didn't look reassured. He sighed and said in a gentler voice, "I love you, Remus."

The anxiety faded from Lupin's blue eyes. "Then it's all right," he said, and lightly kissed Snape on the mouth. "I love you, too, Severus." 

Lupin smiled at him in such a warm and tender way that all Snape's irritation and anger melted away. "Just promise me that next year we can spend the holidays alone together; I don't think I can stand another Christmas like this one!"

Lupin laughed. "I can't promise, but I'll do my best!" He kissed Snape again. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Remus."

*** 

Snape had to leave the next morning; he had urgent business with both the Death Eaters and Dumbledore. He returned to the house on the last day of the Christmas holidays; not to see Lupin, but to see Potter, on the Headmaster's orders. Lupin wasn't home, but Black was, of course, and he refused to leave the kitchen even though Snape had been instructed to talk to Potter alone. But then Sirius Black had never cared much about rules; typical Gryffindor...

"Er," Potter said nervously.

"Sit down, Potter," said Snape curtly.

"You know," Black said loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and staring at the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."

Potter hastily took a seat beside Black. For once, Snape wished Branwen were here to put Black in his place. "I was supposed to see you alone, Potter," Snape said, feeling his upper lip curl in a sneer, "but Black--"

"I'm his godfather," Black said loudly.

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," Snape said, hearing his voice grow quiet and waspish in spite of himself. Black always did know how to provoke him. Potter stared at him nervously, clearly recognizing the danger even if Black didn't--at least the boy had a little more common sense than his godfather! "But by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel...involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Black snapped, letting his chair fall back on all four legs with a loud bang.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel--ah--frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful for the Order," Snape said in a falsely-sweet tone of voice, slightly stressing the word "useful". He felt a brief flash of malicious triumph as Black flushed. _Struck a nerve, did I, Black?_ Snape turned to Potter and continued, "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?"

"Occlumency, Potter," Snape said, as if speaking to an idiot. "The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

"Why do I have to study Occlu--thing?"

"Because the Headmaster thinks it is a good idea," Snape said smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?'

"Yes," Potter replied. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

"I am," Snape said. Although he didn't relish the task, he was rather amused by the boy's look of panic as he turned to his godfather with pleading eyes.

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" Black snarled. "Why you?"

"I suppose it is a Headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," Snape said in a silky voice. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." Rising to his feet, he said, "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."

He turned to leave, but Black called out, "Wait a moment."

Snape turned back, sneering. "I am rather in a hurry, Black...unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time..."

"I'll get to the point, then," Black said, standing up. Snape didn't like the look in his face, and slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped his wand. Just in case. Meanwhile, Black was saying, "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

"How very touching," Snape sneered. Black was such an idiot; even Lupin realized that Potter was strong enough to handle the tender loving care that Snape lavished on all his students. Snape didn't like Potter one bit, but he had to admit that at least he wasn't a sniveling little whiner like Longbottom. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Black proudly.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off of him," Snape said sleekly, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Black pulled out his wand and strode around the table towards Snape, who whipped out his own wand.

"Sirius!" Potter shouted.

"I've warned you, SNIVELLUS," said Black, leaning close until his face was barely a foot away from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better--"

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who's been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?"  "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," Snape said softly, "did you know Lucius Malfoy recognized you the last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your little hidey-hole in the future, didn't it?"

Black raised his wand, but Potter vaulted over the table and threw himself between them, shouting, "Sirius, don't--"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Black, trying to shove Potter out of the way.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am."

"Harry--get--out--of--it!" snarled Black, still pushing at Potter with his free hand.

Just then, the entire Weasley family, plus Granger and Lupin, walked into the kitchen, all looking very happy. "Cured!" Mr. Weasley announced brightly. "Completely cured!" Then he and the others froze at the threshold, gazing at the two wizards who stood with wands pointing in each other's faces, with Harry standing between them, a hand stretched out to each of them, as if trying to force them apart.

"Merlin's beard, what's going on here?" asked Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face.

"Sirius? Severus?" Lupin asked sharply.

Snape and Black both lowered their wands. Snape pocketed his, turned on his heel, and swept back across the kitchen, brushing past the Weasleys without comment. He looked back at the door and said, "Six o'clock Monday evening, Potter."

Lupin flashed a quick glare at Sirius, then hurried after Snape. "Severus, wait!"

"I'm in a hurry, Lupin," Snape said curtly, heading towards the front door. He didn't want to listen to his lover's recriminations.

Lupin grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to stop. "Severus, what happened? Were the two of you about to fight? Have you both lost your minds?!"

"Black took exception to the fact that Dumbledore has ordered me to teach Potter Occlumency," Snape said coldly. 

"Occlumency?" Lupin asked, startled. "Because of the dreams?"

"Well, at least someone in this house is able to use their brain," Snape said dryly.

"Not many people are able to perform Occlumency; I didn't know you could."

"How do you think I was able to keep the Dark Lord from realizing I was a spy?" Snape asked sharply, but felt ashamed of himself when Lupin looked hurt. He was angry at Black, but he supposed he shouldn't take it out on Lupin. He said in a contrite tone, "I wasn't trying to hide it; I guess the subject just never came up."

"Thank you for helping Harry," Lupin said gently, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Snape stepped back, flushing. "Not here, Lupin!" he said irritably. "And I assure you I'm only doing it because Dumbledore told me to."

Lupin sighed, in that long-suffering way of his. "Well, I thank you anyway, Severus. So what were you and Sirius fighting about, then?"

"Black seems to think I might be taking advantage of the extra lessons to 'give Harry a hard time,' I believe were the words he used."

Lupin sighed again. "I'll have a word with him." He thought about asking Severus to treat Harry fairly if not kindly, but knew that would probably just make things worse. Well, Harry had survived four and a half years of Potions classes with Severus; a few more lessons wouldn't kill him. "Can't you stay a little longer, Severus?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Snape said regretfully. "I have to get back to school and prepare for classes tomorrow." That was true, but he probably could have squeezed in at least a half-hour with Lupin; however, he didn't think it would be wise for he and Black to be under the same roof right now. "I'll--I'll see you when I can." But he didn't know when that would be, what with his duties as teacher and spy, not to mention the fact that Umbridge was watching all the staff members very closely.

"All right, Severus," Lupin said. "Take care of yourself." He briefly laid a hand on Snape's arm, then let him go.

"Take care of yourself, Lupin," Snape said gruffly, then opened the front door and left.

*** 

Potter showed up at Snape's office at the appointed time. Snape glared at the boy; he knew it was necessary, but he really didn't want to do this. He didn't want to look into the boy's mind, and he definitely didn't want the boy looking into his. "Well, Potter, you know why you are here. The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope you prove more adept at it than Potions."

"Right," said Potter tersely.

Snape's eyes narrowed in anger. "This may not be an ordinary class, Potter, but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."

"Yes...sir," Potter replied. 

Snape didn't like his insolent tone, but he let it pass; he wanted to get this over with. He explained to the boy that Occlumency "seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."

"And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?"

Was the boy a complete idiot? Snape said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency--"

"What's that? Sir?"

"It's the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind--"

"He can read minds?" Potter blurted out.

"You have no subtlety, Potter," Snape said. "You do not understand the fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker." He paused for a moment, then continued, "Only Muggles talk of 'mind reading'. The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter...or at least, most minds are..." He smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

"So he could know what we're thinking right now? Sir?"

Snape explained that the Dark Lord was a considerable distance away and that the school was guarded by many protective spells and charms. "Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often necessary in Legilimency."

"Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?"

Snape looked at Potter thoughtfully, absent-mindedly tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger. "The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable--when you are asleep, for instance--you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord."

Potter seemed puzzled, pointing out that his dream had saved Mr. Weasley's life. "...I saw that snake attack Mr. Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to save him, would he? Sir?"

Snape stared at Potter for a long moment, still tracing his mouth with his finger, then spoke slowly and deliberately. "It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you and himself until very recently. Up till now it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions and sharing his thoughts without his being any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas--"

"The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?"

"Do not interrupt me Potter," Snape said in a dangerous voice. "As I was saying...the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion into the Dark Lord's thoughts--"

"I saw inside the snake's head, not his!"

"I thought I told you not to interrupt me, Potter!"

"How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?"

"DO NOT SAY THE DARK LORD'S NAME!" spat Snape, hating himself for the sudden surge of fear he felt, and hating Potter for making him expose himself that way.

Potter glared at him for moment, then said quietly, "Professor Dumbledore says his name."

"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Snape muttered. "While HE may feel secure enough to use the name...the rest of us..." He unconsciously rubbed his left forearm where the Mark was branded.

"I just wanted to know why--" Potter said in a more subdued voice.

"The Dark Lord was in the snake's mind at that particular moment," snarled Snape. "He was possessing the snake at the time, and so you dreamed you were inside it too..."

"And Vol--he--realized I was there?"

"It seems so," said Snape coolly.

"How do you know? Is Professor Dumbledore just guessing, or--"

This line of questioning was getting dangerous. Snape knew, because the Dark Lord had told his Death Eaters, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Potter that. "I told you to call me 'sir'," he said coldly.

"Yes, sir, but how do you know--" Potter began.

"It is enough that we know," Snape said, firmly cutting him off. Snape explained, though it should have been obvious, that Voldemort had deduced that he might be able to reverse the process and access Potter's thoughts and feelings in return.

"And he might try and make me do things?" Potter asked, sounding alarmed--finally. "Sir?"

"He might," Snape said in a cold voice, as it mattered to him not at all. "Which brings us to Occlumency." He took his wand and placed its tip against his temple, and began withdrawing his thoughts, which the wand drew out in gossamer silver strands, and placed them in the Pensieve sitting on his desk. There was a chance that during their lessons, Potter might be able to touch his thoughts, and Snape had a great many thoughts that he did not want Potter to see. Of course, he couldn't remove every dangerous or embarrassing thought he had, or there would be nothing left in his head at all, but he removed what he considered to be the most sensitive memories, most of them involving Potter's father and Lupin during their schoolboy days at Hogwarts. When he was finished, he carefully set the Pensieve aside on a shelf out of their way, and returned to face Potter.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter," Snape ordered. The boy obeyed, looking nervous. "You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of." Potter stared at him suspiciously, apparently not quite believing that his teacher was inviting Potter to attack him. _Come, Potter,_ he thought in dark amusement. _I thought you would leap at the chance!_

"And what are you going to do?" Potter asked apprehensively.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," Snape said softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude for resisting the Imperius Curse... You will find that similar powers are needed for this... Brace yourself now...Legilimens!" Snape attacked, and a series of images flickered before his eyes: a fat boy riding a red bicycle; a dog chasing Potter up a tree while the fat boy and what looked to be his parents laughed; Potter sitting under the Sorting Hat; Granger in the hospital wing, her face covered with thick black hair; Dementors swarming around Potter beside the lake; the face of a girl...Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker... 

_No!_ Snape heard Potter shout, but in his mind, not aloud. _You're not watching that; you're not watching it, it's private--_

A sharp pain stung Snape's wrist, breaking his concentration, and thus, the spell. He lowered his wand and rubbed his wrist. Potter was kneeling on the floor, looking angry and shaken.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" Snape asked coolly.

"No," said Potter bitterly as he got to his feet.

"I thought not," Snape said. He had expected more from Potter, considering how he had resisted the Dark Lord last summer. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Did you see everything I saw?" Potter asked nervously.

"Flashes of it," Snape said. The fat boy and his parents were probably Potter's Muggle family; quite an unpleasant lot, apparently. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the boy, and Snape sneered in an attempt to ward off the unexpected and unwanted surge of sympathy. "To whom did the dog belong?"

"My Aunt Marge," Potter muttered.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," Snape admitted. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"I'm trying!" Potter protested. "But you're not telling me how!"

"Manners, Potter," Snape said coldly, and the boy glared at him. "Clear your mind, Potter," Snape instructed. "Let go of all emotion..." He could still feel Potter's anger at him coursing through his mind. "You're not doing it Potter... You will need more discipline than this... Focus, now... Let's go again...on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!" This time he saw a dragon, then James and Lily Potter waving from inside a mirror, then Diggory's dead body lying on the ground...

"NOOOOOOO!" Potter screamed, falling to his knees.

"Get up!" Snape said, fear and anger making his voice sharp. The boy was letting him in too easily; he would never be able to block Voldemort this way! "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!" Above all else, Snape feared exposing his emotions and weaknesses to anyone but Lupin, and he could not understand how the boy could expose himself so, why he wasn't fighting harder to block Snape, whom he after all considered an enemy of sorts...

"I--am--making--an--effort," Potter said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment!" Potter snarled.

"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" Snape said savagely. Didn't the boy understand what was at stake here? "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily--weak people, in other words--they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"

"I am not weak," Potter said in a low, angry voice.

"Then prove it! Master yourself! Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!" More flashes of memories--the unpleasant Muggle man, more dementors, Arthur Weasley running down a windowless corridor...a black door at the end of it... Snape realized that Potter was seeing the Department of Mysteries, and quickly broke off the spell.

"I KNOW! I KNOW!" shouted Potter from the floor where he had fallen on all fours.

"What happened then, Potter?" Snape asked, staring at the boy intently.

"I saw--I remembered...I've just realized..."

"Realized what?" asked Snape sharply.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?"

"What did you say?" Snape whispered, a sudden chill feeling of fear clutching at his heart. The connection between Voldemort and Potter was deeper than he had thought--dangerously so; the boy should not have known that...

"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, SIR?"

"And why would you ask such a thing?" Snape asked slowly.

"Because that corridor I've just seen--I've been dreaming about it for months--I've just recognized it--it leads to the Department of Mysteries...and I think Voldemort wants something from--"

"I HAVE TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY THE DARK LORD'S NAME!" screamed Snape. This was not good; here he was telling the boy to empty himself of emotions, while Snape was losing control of his. He tried to get a grip on himself, and attempted to speak in a cool, unconcerned manner, but wasn't sure he entirely succeeded. "There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which would understand and none of which concern you, do I make myself plain?"

"Yes," said Potter, rubbing the scar on his forehead, which further unnerved Snape.

Snape decided that was enough for one night; he didn't think he could take anymore even if the boy could. He told the boy to come back on Wednesday, and ordered him to work on emptying his mind of emotions. He took down the Pensieve and began replacing his thoughts back in his head although he wished he could permanently rid himself of some of them...

*** 

The very next day, the Daily Prophet reported that nine Death Eaters had broken out of Azkaban. Snape had known the Dark Lord had been planning something, but not precisely what. Perhaps Voldemort still didn't completely trust him.

And soon, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, that toad Umbridge, had issued a decree stating that teachers were banned from giving students information not strictly related to the subjects they were paid to teach. Which meant none of the staff could discuss current events, such as the prison break, with their students, and incidentally, meant that Snape was breaking the law by giving Potter Occlumency lessons. Although if that were discovered, Snape would be much more worried about Voldemort's reaction than the Ministry's...

*** 

The students had been given the day off on Valentine's Day, so Snape snuck out of the castle, taking care that no one saw him leave, and met Lupin at the werewolf's cottage in the woods, as they had previously arranged. Snape absolutely refused to put up with the snide remarks Black would undoubtedly come up with if he showed up at the Phoenix headquarters with flowers and chocolates. Well, with chocolates and a bottle of wine, actually; Snape had been too embarrassed to actually purchase flowers. Snape bought candy all the time in Hogsmeade, but it would probably cause a great deal of gossip if someone spotted the Potions Master buying flowers on Valentine's Day.

Lupin Apparated into the cottage a minute after Snape arrived. He apparently had not had any similar reservations, because he was holding a bouquet of roses and a huge heart-shaped box of candy. "Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin said, giving him a kiss and handing him the presents.  
 "Thank you, Remus," Snape said, blushing slightly. "Here, these are for you," he said a little gruffly, handing Lupin the bottle of wine and a box--square, not heart-shaped--of Honeydukes fudge.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said, sounding pleased. He really looked gorgeous--he was wearing the robe Snape had given him for Christmas, a dark blue trimmed with gold and silver embroidery. Snape reached over and ran his hand through Lupin's gold-and-silver hair, which to him, was much more beautiful than the gilt thread on the robe. Lupin smiled at him, that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Do you remember what you told me once, when I was teaching at Hogwarts?"

"I told you a great many things, Lupin," Snape said, feigning a haughty tone. "I can't possibly remember them all."

Lupin opened the box Snape had handed him and popped a piece of fudge into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then said, "You told me chocolate was an aphrodisiac."

"That's right," Snape murmured. "Does it seem to be working?"

In response, Lupin kissed him, long and slow. His lips parted willingly for Snape's probing tongue, and Snape tasted the sweetness of chocolate still lingering in his lover's mouth.

"Yes," Snape said huskily. "It seems to be working. Even a trace amount is sufficient, it seems..." 

Lupin smiled, his blue eyes glassy with desire, and tugged on the front of Snape's robe, slowly stepping backwards in the direction of the bedroom as he said, "Shall we conduct some research, Professor Snape?"

"Yes, for the sake of science," Snape agreed, letting Lupin lead him to bed.

 

Much later, Snape leaned back on Lupin's couch; the owner of that couch was sitting on Snape's lap feeding him chocolates from the now half-empty heart-shaped box on the table beside them. 

"How's that aphrodisiac working, Severus?" Lupin asked slyly.

"I'm not as...shall we say...resilient as a werewolf," Snape said dryly. "Give me some time to recover." Lupin laughed, and Snape smiled, drinking in the sight of him. 

"You look like you'd like to eat me up, Severus," Lupin said, laughing again.

"Perhaps later," Snape purred.

Lupin blushed and reached for the glass of wine on the table and took a sip. Then he offered it to Snape, holding it to his lips as he drank. "That's what's known as an indirect kiss, you know," he said playfully.

"What?"

"Two people drinking from the same glass."

"Where on earth did you get that from?"

"From a manga comic book that Miyako sent me. There's a teenage couple sitting in a cafe, you see, and--"

"Honestly, Lupin, you'll rot your brain with those things."

Lupin just laughed. "Speaking of teenagers, how are the Occlumency lessons going with Harry?"

Snape scowled. "Do we have to talk about Potter _now_?" he asked waspishly.

"I'm concerned, Severus," Lupin said seriously. "It isn't safe for Harry to write to us, so he hasn't been able to tell us how things are going." In a lighter tone he added, gently running a finger over Snape's pouting lips, "Besides, we have to do something while we're waiting for you to, ah, 'recover'..." Snape flushed slightly, and Lupin leaned over and whispered into his ear, "We can end the conversation as soon as you feel up to returning to the bedroom."

Snape's blush grew deeper, and he gave the werewolf a suspicious look. "It's not close to the full moon yet, is it?"

Lupin smiled back at him innocently. "No, I guess it must be all the chocolate..."

Snape sighed and gave in. "Actually, I'm worried about Potter. He's not progressing as fast he should be. He seems to have difficulty emptying his mind of emotions; he lets his anger control him--"

"He's just a child, Severus. Most children his age have trouble controlling their emotions--"

"Most boys his age don't have the Dark Lord prying around inside their heads!" snapped Snape. "He's seeing things he shouldn't, Lupin! He's seen the Department of Mysteries!" Lupin looked alarmed. "He's too close to Vol--to the Dark Lord! He doesn't even seem to be trying!"

Lupin gently stroked his lover's face, trying to calm him down. "I know it's difficult, Severus, but please be patient with him. It might be hard for you to understand, because you had such control over your emotions at his age, but most children don't--"

"I learned in self-defense," Snape said in a low voice. "Fear is a good teacher. And the stakes are even higher for Potter than they were for me."

Lupin felt that familiar feeling of sorrow mingled with tenderness that he always felt whenever Severus talked about his childhood. He wished he had been able to protect Severus from all the people who had hurt him; his feelings were also tinged with guilt because some of the people who had hurt him had been Lupin's friends... He kissed his lover on the forehead and said, "I think he's probably trying to empty his mind of emotions as you've instructed, but he doesn't really know how. Aren't there some--I don't know, breathing or meditation techniques you can teach him that would help?"

"I don't know," Snape mumbled. "I'll try."

"Thank you, Severus."

Snape scowled at him again. "You know, all this talk about Potter isn't really helping to put me in the mood..."

Lupin smiled and let him change the subject. "How about this, then?" he asked, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. "Does that put you in the mood?"

Apparently it did. Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist, pulling him closer, then kissed Lupin's throat, biting and sucking at the soft skin there. Lupin growled softly, a low, hungry sound.

"I think," Snape said in a slightly hoarse voice, "I'm sufficiently recovered. Shall we retire to the bedroom, then?"

"What's wrong with right here?" Lupin growled.

"Are you SURE it's not the full moon?" But Snape laughed and pushed his lover down onto the couch. "We're behaving like hormonal teenagers, making out on the couch..."

"I don't recall making out on a couch when we were teenagers, do you?"

"Well, no..."

"So we should try it at least once, don't you think?"

Snape agreed. Their exertions tumbled them off the couch onto the floor, but by then they were so caught up in passion that they barely noticed...

*** 

"You're still having trouble emptying your mind, Potter." Snape added in a snide tone, "I wouldn't expect you, of all people, to find that so difficult."

"I'm trying...sir," Harry said, grinding his teeth in frustration.

He expected Snape to berate him further, but instead his teacher just frowned for a moment, then said, "Take a deep breath, Potter. Hold it. Now let it out. Again. Keep doing that at the same pace, and imagine your anger, your emotions leaving your body as you exhale."

Harry was surprised to find that did calm him down a bit. _He could have just told me that from the start,_ he thought a bit disgruntledly, then realized he was starting to get agitated again, and took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Good," said Snape in a tone of grudging approval. He paused, seeming to think for a moment, then said in a soft voice, "Imagine building a brick wall around your inner self--impenetrable, unbreachable; no one can touch you or your emotions..."

Harry stared at his teacher; was that what Snape had done as part of his Occlumency training? But the Potions Master's black eyes were unreadable. Harry tried to picture the brick wall in his mind, though he felt a little silly doing so, but imagined laying brick and mortar, tried to picture a wall solid enough to keep Voldemort out...

"Prepare yourself, Potter. We shall begin. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

The brick wall was apparently not solid enough; Harry found himself kneeling on the floor again.

"Get up, Potter," Snape said impatiently. "The last memory, what was it?"

"I don't know," Harry said wearily; the memories had all been blurred together. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"No," said Snape softly. "I mean the one concerning a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..."

"It's...nothing," said Harry. Snape's dark eyes bored into his, and remembering what Snape had said about eye contact and Legilimency, Harry blinked and looked away.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?"

"It--it was--just a dream I had," Harry said, still avoiding Snape's gaze.

"A dream." Snape paused, then said in a very quiet, deadly voice, "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Remind me why we are here, Potter."

"So I can learn Occlumency."

"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be, I would have thought that after two months' worth of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," Harry lied, glaring at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Perhaps...perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special--important?"

"No, they don't," Harry protested, his fingers clenching tightly around the handle of his wand.

"That is just as well, Potter," Snape said coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No--that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot back, before he could stop himself. He waited for Snape to yell at him, to take points off Gryffindor, to sneer at him that he could not control his emotions. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape's face when he answered.

"Yes, Potter," Snape said, his dark eyes glinting. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Harry tried to concentrate this time, tried to imagine the brick wall protecting him. He could see a hundred Dementors swooping towards him from the lake...but he could also see Snape standing in front of him, muttering under his breath...and Snape was growing clearer while the Dementors were growing fainter. It was working!

Harry raised his own wand and shouted, "Protego!"

Snape staggered, his wand flew upward, away from Harry--and suddenly Harry's mind was teeming with memories that were not his: A pale, hook-nosed man shouted at a small dark-haired boy who was crying, a broken toy lying on the floor at his feet; the man raised a wand, and then the boy was writhing on the floor screaming in pain, while a beautiful woman with dark hair and golden-tan skin watched, a cold and indifferent expression on her face...A greasy-haired teenager lay in dark bedroom, pointing his wand and shooting down the flies that flitted in through the open window...The same boy, a year or two younger, lay sprawled in the mud, while another boy--Harry realized it was a young Lupin--smiled and held out a hand to him--

"ENOUGH!"

Harry staggered back, feeling as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he hit some of the shelves lining the office wall and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, and was even paler than usual. Harry felt something wet on the back of his robes, and realized one of the jars he had bumped into had cracked and was leaking.

"Reparo!" hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. "Well, Potter," Snape said, his voice a little shaky, "that was certainly an improvement. Panting slightly, he straightened the Pensieve, as if to make sure his thoughts were still in there. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm...but there is no doubt that it was effective..."

Harry remained silent, afraid to say anything; he was certain he had broken into Snape's memories, and he was sure his teacher wasn't too happy about that, even if he had made progress. Harry wasn't too thrilled about it himself. He was sure those memories were scenes from Snape's childhood, and the thought that the crying little boy was the bitter man standing in front of him was extremely unnerving. Even more unnerving was the fact that Snape's father had used what appeared to be a Cruciatus Curse on young Snape, who could not have been more than five or six. Was that why Snape had turned out to have such a nasty, sour disposition? The thought was very disturbing; Harry hated Snape--he did not want to feel sorry for Snape, whose sole joy in life seemed to be tormenting Harry.

"Let's try again, shall we?" Snape's tone of voice was neutral, but there was a look of intense loathing in his eyes, and Harry felt sure he was about to pay for what had just happened. They moved back into position with the desk between them; Harry felt sure it would be much harder to empty his mind this time.

"On the count of three, then. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Harry had no time to do the breathing exercise or build up the wall in his mind. He found himself hurtling down the corridor toward the Department of Mysteries, the black door up ahead growing every larger, and he could see a faint blue light emanating from behind the door. The door flew open, and he was through it at last, in a circular room with black walls and floor lit by blue-flamed candles. There were doors all around him--he needed to go on--but which door to take--?

"POTTER!" screamed Snape.

Harry opened his eyes, finding himself flat on his back on the floor. Snape was standing over him looking furious--and possibly a little frightened? "Explain yourself!" shouted Snape.

"I...dunno what happened," said Harry, sitting up. "I've dreamed about the door...but it's never opened before..."

"You are not working hard enough!" Snape snarled. For some reason, he seemed even angrier than he had been after Harry had seen into his own memories a few minutes ago. "You are lazy and sloppy, Potter," Snape was ranting, "it is small wonder that the Dark Lord--"

"Can you tell me something, SIR?" said Harry angrily. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that--"

Snape opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a woman's voice screamed from somewhere outside the room. "What the--?" he muttered, gazing up at the ceiling. The sounds of a muffled commotion could be heard; it seemed to be coming from the entrance hall. "Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?" Snape asked. He was frowning, but now looked more concerned than angry. Harry shook his head. From above them, the woman screamed again. Without another word, Snape left his office, wand still held at the ready, and Harry followed him.

They arrived to find Professor Trelawney in hysterics, which were probably partially fueled by the now-empty sherry bottle in one hand. It soon became clear that Umbridge had fired her and was about to throw her out of the castle. Even though he thought she was a lousy teacher, Harry still felt a little sorry for her. Snape watched with an expressionless face, but his jaw dropped open when Dumbledore announced that he was giving Trelawney permission to live at the castle even though she was no longer a teacher. Umbridge looked even more shocked, and a great deal more unhappy. But she was about to get an even bigger shock--Dumbledore introduced their new Divinations teacher, the centaur Firenze. Snape slipped off, heading back towards the dungeons, but he didn't seem to expect Harry to follow him, which was a relief; it was probably best to let Snape have a chance to cool off before their next lesson.

*** 

Snape sat brooding in his office, wondering how someone as incompetent as Potter had managed to break into his mind. He kept seeing those images over and over again in his head. He remembered the first incident, how he had accidentally dropped and broken his favorite toy, a beautiful clockwork dragon. It was really too delicate and expensive a toy for a young child, but it had been a birthday gift from a couple who were friends of his parents, who had been more concerned with making a point of giving expensive, impressive gifts than they were in making an attempt to find something actually suitable for a young boy. At any rate, he had broken the toy and begun crying over it, as children do. His father had been furious; "A Snape does not cry," he had said coldly, as he cast a pain-giving curse upon his only son. "Particularly not over something so trivial." Snape remembered screaming and writhing in pain, and remembered how his mother had not intervened, but stood by and watched, a cold and indifferent look on her beautiful face.

That was the day he had begun to hate his parents, and he wasn't sure which one he hated more--his father for placing the curse upon him, or his mother for not trying to help him. That was the day Snape had begun to guard his emotions, to not trust anyone, for fear of being punished, for fear of being betrayed. He glanced at the shelves lining his office, and saw a distorted image of his face reflected in one of the glass jars. He scowled, thinking sourly to himself that he had inherited the worst features of both parents: his father's hooked nose and pale skin, and his mother's golden complexion, which though it looked lovely on her, only served to add a sallow tinge to his already corspe-like pallor. He had also inherited her thick, black hair, but Lupin was the only one who seemed to find it attractive; those childhood taunts about his "greasy" hair still stung, even after all these years...

Lupin had asked him once, when they were still blissfully in love as teenagers, if he was worried that his family would object to him taking a poverty-struck Gryffindor as a lover, and Snape had blithely replied that his parents would disown him but that he didn't care. It was not only love that motivated him to make such a statement; he had eagerly jumped at an excuse to leave his family. Being disowned would not have been a sacrifice, but a relief: to escape that cold house and the parents he hated, to escape the need to make a cold, loveless marriage like his parents', Snape would willingly have given up all the wealth, status, and power that he would have been entitled to as heir to the Snape family. 

Of course, even though he had lost Lupin, his parents had ended up disowning him anyway, for fear that he would sully the precious family name after he had been publicly branded a Death Eater. It was a rare case of his father acting in premature haste, for it turned out that Snape was never officially charged with any crimes, and never stood trial. His parents were of course too proud to reverse their decision once it was made, but they quietly let it be known that they would pardon him and accept him back into the family if he would come to them and ask forgiveness. But Snape had no desire to return to the family he hated, and remained stubbornly unrepentant. Hogwarts had become his home, and he never left it, not even on the holidays, except on business--at least until Lupin came back into his life. He had not seen nor spoken to his parents in over fourteen years.

Snape's thoughts turned towards the second memory, less painful though still unpleasant. It had been a hot summer night when he was fourteen years old. He had been lying in his bedroom, bored. His parents paid no attention to him, except when they were teaching him something or punishing him for something, and none of his so-called Slytherin friends had invited him to their homes during the summer. He had no real friends, merely people who associated with him during the school year because of family connections. They weren't friends the way Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were friends... Snape's mood had turned sour, and he opened his bedroom window and idly began shooting down the insects that flew into his room, taking a malicious pleasure in being able to hurt and kill something, even something as small and insignificant as a bug. His mother would be furious if she found out he had let vermin into the house--their house of course had charms cast upon it that repelled annoying pests like insects or mice--but since his mother ignored him for the most part, it was highly unlikely that she would ever find out. He vaporized the insect corpses with a quick flick of his wand, destroying the evidence...

The third memory was both pleasant and painful at the same time. During Snape's second year, Slytherin and Gryffindor had gotten into a quarrel one gloomy day, over whose turn it was to practice on the Quidditch pitch. They had decided to settle it with a match, except that the rain came pouring down, driving everyone but Potter and Snape out of the sky. The two boys had jostled each other trying to grab the Golden Snitch, and Snape had fallen off his broom into a puddle of mud on the ground. He remembered the other students' taunting laughter, and remembered most of all Remus Lupin's friendly smile as he came over and offered Snape a hand up. That was the first time he had really noticed Lupin, and that sweet, kind smile had started an obsession that continued to this very day, because no one had ever smiled at Snape that way before...

Snape sighed, his mind returning to the present. He might have to put a few more memories into the Pensieve for Potter's next lesson; clearly he had not removed enough of them. Once more he wished that he could remove some of those memories permanently and not just temporarily. He wondered what would happen if he tipped over the Pensieve and spilled out those silvery, gossamer thoughts, but he was not quite brave enough to try...

Damn that Potter brat, anyway! He would not have to relive these memories if he didn't have to teach the boy Occlumency! Potter had seemed to be making some progress at the start of the lesson, but then that image of the Department of Mysteries had appeared in his mind. The visions were getting more vivid, Potter kept moving further down the corridor with each "dream"...the connection between the boy and the Dark Lord seemed to be growing stronger rather than weaker, which terrified Snape. If Voldemort was able seize control of the boy's mind, they would all be dead, and it irked Snape that the brat didn't seem to see the risk, didn't seem to be taking the lessons seriously.

And of course there was the boy's insolent attitude. When Snape had told Potter, "It is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters," the brat had replied, "No--that's your job, isn't it?" But although Snape had been annoyed, he had also felt almost smug, because that was in fact his job, and it was one that only he was capable of performing. Not even the golden boy, Potter senior, could have done it, because he could never have brought himself to even pretend to be a Dark Wizard; he would have considered it degrading and beneath him, and probably Black would as well. Lupin would have been willing to do it, if he thought it was necessary, but he wasn't a good enough actor to pull it off. Snape--slimy, greasy, sneaky Slytherin though he might be--was the only member of the Order capable of infiltrating the Death Eaters and obtaining the information they needed, and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to know that at last there was something he could do that the noble, golden Gryffindor Potter could not...

*** 

Harry had not had a chance to clear his mind before his Occlumency lesson; he was still upset about Dumbledore being ousted as Headmaster when their D.A. meetings had been discovered, and he had just had a fight with Cho about Marietta squealing to Umbridge about the meetings.

"You're late, Potter," Snape said coldly, as Harry closed the office door behind him. Snape was removing his thoughts, as usual, and placing the silvery strands in the Pensieve. "So, have you been practicing?"

"Yes," Harry lied, avoiding Snape's eyes. With everything that had been going on, he had not practiced clearing his mind, or building the mental image of a brick wall, or even the breathing exercises.

"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?" Snape asked smoothly, apparently suspecting the truth. "On the count of three, then," he said lazily. "One--two--"

Just then the office door banged open, and Draco Malfoy ran in. "Professor Snape, sir--oh--sorry--" He stared at them in surprise.

"It's all right, Draco," Snape said in a casual tone. "Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions."

Malfoy looked positively gleeful. "I didn't know," he said, leering at Harry, who felt his face burn.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Snape asked, a little impatiently.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir--she needs your help. They've found Montague, sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor."

"How did he get in there?" demanded Snape.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused..."

"Very well, very well," Snape said irritably. "Potter, we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead." He turned and swept out of the office with Malfoy, who mouthed, "Remedial Potions?" behind Snape's back before he left.

Harry felt somewhat relieved; he had twenty-four more hours to practice. But on the other hand, Malfoy would probably tell the whole school Harry was taking Remedial Potions... He was about to leave, when the silvery-white light coming from the Pensieve caught his eye. He was filled with curiosity...what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from him? Could it have something to do with the Department of Mysteries? 

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart pounding. Surely, he had enough time to take a quick peek; it would take some time to free Montague from the toilet, and he was the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would surely accompany him to the hospital wing and make sure he was all right... Harry walked over to Snape's desk and hesitantly prodded the contents of the Pensieve with his wand. The silvery stuff began to swirl very fast, and Harry leaned over, peering at it intently. He took a deep breath and plunged his face into the Pensieve, and suddenly he found himself falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then--

He found himself in a classroom; the students seemed to be taking a test. Snape was at a desk right behind Harry, scribbling with his quill as he stared intently at his test paper. Teenage-Snape looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, and had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy, and brushed against the desk since his head was bent low over his test, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment.

"Five more minutes!" a familiar voice called. It was Professor Blackmore, looking much the same as she did now, walking between the rows of desks. She passed by a boy with untidy black hair...Harry hurried over, sliding dreamlike through the aisles, and stopped in front of the desk and stared at his father. There was no mistaking it; the boy had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows, same untidy hair as Harry. James yawned and rumpled his hair, making it even messier than before. Harry's heart was already pounding with excitement, and it started beating even faster when he saw Sirius lounge back in his chair four seats away and give James a thumbs-up. He was very good-looking--his features not yet made gaunt and haggard by twelve years in Azkaban--and a girl sitting behind him was staring at him hopefully, though Sirius didn't even seem to notice her. And two seats away from the girl was a young Lupin. He looked a little pale and peaky (was the full moon close?), and seemed absorbed in his exam. Wormtail sat nearby; a small mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose who anxiously chewed his fingernails and snuck quick peeks at his neighbor's paper when Blackmore's back was turned.

"Time's up; quills down," called Blackmore. "Please remain seated while I collect your papers. Accio!" She waved her wand, and the rolls of parchment flew up and landed neatly on her desk. "Class dismissed."

The Marauders filed out of the room; Snape remained behind to talk to Blackmore about the test. Her expression was stern, but there was a very faint smile on her lips as they spoke briefly, then she handed him a book saying, "I think you will find this interesting, Mr. Snape. It's a bit advanced for most people your age, but I'm sure you will be able to handle it..." Snape smiled at her, looking pleased and proud. Harry had never seen him smile that way as an adult, a smile of pure happiness not tinged with sarcasm or bitterness...except perhaps when he had been dancing with Blackmore on Christmas Day. Could Hermione be right? Was Snape in love with Blackmore? Had he had a crush on her even as a boy? 

But right now, Harry was much more interested in seeing his father. Snape walked slowly out of the classroom, and Harry hurried on ahead to catch up with James and the others. They were heading out of the castle and down the lawn towards the lake, laughing and talking together. "I'm sure I aced that test," Sirius bragged.

"Me too," said James. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a struggling Golden Snitch.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nicked it," James said casually. He played with it, letting it fly away and then seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched in awe. Lupin smiled and shook his head slightly. 

Apparently school was over for the day; perhaps this was the last day before spring or summer break, because there were a number of students by the lake, including a group of laughing girls who had taken off their shoes and socks and were cooling them in the water. Lupin sat down, pulled out a book, and started reading. The girls were gazing Sirius's way admiringly, but he ignored them, looking haughty and bored, but handsomely so. James continued to play with the Snitch, Wormtail applauding every time he made a particularly difficult catch. Harry found it annoying, but James seemed to enjoy the attention. His father also kept rumpling his hair, keeping one eye on the girls by the water's edge.

"Put that away, will you?" Sirius finally said. "Before Wormtail wets himself with excitement." 

Wormtail turned pink, but James grinned and pocketed the Snitch, saying, "If it bothers you." Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one he would have stopped showing off for.

"I'm bored," sighed Sirius.

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," James said quietly. "Look who it is..."

"Excellent," Sirius said. "Snivellus."

Harry turned to see Snape passing by, his nose buried in the book Blackmore had given him. He was so absorbed that he did not see James and Sirius stand up and walk towards him. Wormtail watched with a look of avid anticipation on his face; Lupin glanced up from his book, then looked back down, a faint frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

"All right, Snivellus?" James asked loudly.

Snape reacted as if he were expecting an attack. He instantly dropped his bag and book, and reached into his robe for his wand, but before he could raise it, James shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and Snape's wand flew out of his hand. 

"Impedimenta!" shouted Sirius, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his fallen wand.

Harry watched in horror as his father and godfather taunted the helpless Snape while several of the watching students laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered, and Lupin looked upset, but still pretended to be reading his book.

"You--wait," Snape panted, struggling against the spell, as he stared up at James with a look of pure loathing.

"Wait for what?" Sirius said coolly. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"

Snape let out a stream of blistering swearwords, and James said coldly, "Wash out your mouth--Scourgify!" Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's lips as he choked and gagged--

"Leave him ALONE!" shouted a girl with green eyes and dark red hair. It was Harry's mother. She stared at Harry's father with every sign of great dislike. "What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..." James said. Most of the other students, including Sirius and Wormtail laughed, but Lily and Lupin did not. Lily and James continued to argue, with James promising to leave Snape alone if Lily would go out with him.

"Not even if it was a choice between you and the giant squid, Potter!"

But in the meantime, Snape had managed to shake off the Impedimenta Jinx and retrieve his wand. "OY!" shouted Sirius, but Snape had already raised his wand; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about; another flash of light, and Snape was dangling upside down in the air. Another flash of light, and Snape's trousers fell down--no, up--revealing a pair of skinny legs and a pair of graying underpants. The small crowd roared with laughter; except for Lupin, who was beginning to look ill, and Lily who was even more furious. 

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she screamed, and James broke the spell. Snape tumbled into a heap on the ground.

Snape was pulling up his trousers, while James said, "It's lucky for you Evans was here--"

"I don't need help from filthy Mudbloods like her!" Snape spat.

"Fine," Lily said coolly. "I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash your pants if were you, Snivellus." James was about to hex Snape again to make him apologize, but Lily chewed him out, saying that he was as bad as Snape, and that he was a showoff as well. "I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK!" 

James called after her, but she didn't look back. Disgruntled he turned back to Snape; there was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air. "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" James asked. 

Before anyone could reply, Lupin said, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" 

"A raven. I think Blackmore said she might come down to the lake when she was finished grading our papers."

"She couldn't possibly be done already," protested James, but he looked around nervously.

"I don't want to serve detention with Blackmore," Wormtail whined. "I don't want to be demon-bait!"

"She doesn't summon demons, you moron," said Sirius, but he looked nervous too. "Ah, what the hell--we've had our fun; let's go." Apparently Lupin and Sirius had not exaggerated Blackmore's reputation, because the mere mention of her name put a damper on the festivities, and soon all the students were dispersing. James flicked his wand carelessly, and Snape tumbled back to the ground again.

Snape lay there, staring after James and Sirius with a look of sheer hatred in his eyes. Lupin lingered behind for a moment, gave Snape an apologetic little smile, and silently mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

"Remy, come on!" Sirius called, and Lupin hastened after his friends. Snape stared at Lupin's retreating form, with a very strange expression on his face. He still looked angry, but there was something else as well--hunger? Jealousy?

Then the scene before him blurred and swirled, and Harry found himself falling through blackness again. He landed in the Shrieking Shack. Lupin, a year or two older this time, lay curled up on the floor, groaning in pain. It must be the night of the full moon...

Snape emerged from the secret tunnel and said softly, "Remus? Are you all right?" Harry was shocked by the concern in Snape's voice. And since when did Snape call Lupin by his first name?

Lupin looked up at Snape, fear and horror--and guilt?--in his blue eyes. "How did you get here?" he demanded.

"So nice to see you too," Snape said sarcastically, sounding more like his normal self. "Black told me how to find you."

"Sirius did?!" Lupin cried, sounding hurt and betrayed, and Snape smiled, a look of dark satisfaction on his face. "Get out!" screamed Lupin.

"What?" asked Snape, sounding hurt, which confused Harry even more.

"Get out now, Severus!" Lupin shrieked. "Hurry, before it's too late!" Then he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

"Remus!" Snape shouted, looking frightened and concerned. He knelt down, reaching out as if to help Lupin, who pushed him away, flinging him back against the wall. 

"Get out!" screamed Lupin. The scream turned into a low growl, and Snape and Harry watched in horror as Lupin transformed into a wolf. 

_Lupin told me Snape just got a glimpse of him at the end of the tunnel!_ Harry thought. _He never said Snape was in the Shack with him!_

"Oh God," whispered Snape as he backed away, but it was too late. Lupin pounced and knocked him to the ground. Snape grabbed the wolf's head, wrestling it away just in time as Lupin's jaws snapped shut a mere inch above his face. The wolf snarled, nothing but madness in its blue eyes, as Snape struggled with the wolf and whimpered softly, "Please, Remy, please..." Lupin blinked, and the madness receded from his eyes for a second as the wolf hesitated.

Then suddenly James emerged from the tunnel, shouting "Expelliarmus!" The wolf was hurled away from Snape, crashing into a broken table across the room. James grabbed Snape's arm, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him into the tunnel--

Then a hand closed over Harry's upper arm with a painfully tight grip. Wincing, he turned to see who had hold of him, and to his horror he saw a fully grown, adult-sized Snape behind him, white with rage.

"So...been enjoying yourself, Potter?" he snarled.

"N...no," stammered Harry, trying to pull his arm free. He was terrified; Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, and his teeth were bared.

"Amusing man, your godfather," said Snape, giving Harry a violent shake, causing his glasses to slip down his nose.

"I--I--"

"What else did you see?" Snape demanded. "Did you see your father as well?"

"Yes--I mean, no--" But it was too late; Snape's face turned from white to red.

"Yes, your father was quite amusing as well; quite the prankster," Snape said through clenched teeth. He threw Harry from him with all his might, and Harry fell hard on the dungeon floor. "You will not repeat what you saw to anyone!" Snape bellowed.

"No," said Harry, scrambling to his feet and putting as much distance as possible between himself and Snape. "No, of course I wo--"

"Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!" screamed Snape.

As Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head. He wrenched the door open and ran down the corridor, not stopping until he had put three floors between himself and Snape. He leaned against the wall, panting and trembling. He rubbed his bruised arm, but barely noticed the pain. What bothered him much more than his arm--or being shouted at and having jars thrown at him--was that he knew just how Snape felt, how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, and that judging from what he had seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always claimed.

*** 

With a trembling hand, Snape took out his wand and retrieved his memories from the Pensieve. Then he sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Which memories had the boy seen? There were so many memories to hide...what had he seen? He had seen the Shrieking Shack; had he seen Black calling him "lover boy," taunting him with the knowledge that he had guessed Snape's feelings for Lupin before he sent Snape to the Shack? Had he seen the subsequent arguments with Lupin? Had he seen Lupin and Snape making love? The boy had seen some memory involving his father; Snape could tell by the look in his eyes--which one? Probably the one where Potter and Black had caught him by surprise and de-pantsed him in front of a crowd by the lake; it was one of the most vivid memories he had in the time before the Shrieking Shack. Snape had usually been able to hold his own one-on-one against them, so the little cowards had teamed up and jumped him together. Snape had often deliberately provoked attacks from them to earn the little smiles of apology Lupin gave him afterwards, but that time wasn't one of them. Even Lupin's smile didn't make up for the feelings of utter helplessness and humiliation...

Trying to distract himself, Snape crawled forward and began picking up the shards of broken glass, but his hands were still trembling and clumsy, and he cut himself. He sat there staring at the blood dripping from his fingers.

Just then the door creaked and started to open. Snape grabbed a jar from one of the lower shelves and hurled it towards the door, shouting, "I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, POTTER!"

*** 

Dylan Rosier jumped back as a glass jar hit the side of the doorway and exploded into sharp fragments; one just barely missed his face. Only the fact that Snape seemed to be angry at Potter, not him, kept Dylan from turning and running back the way he came. He was still tempted to, but he had missed a couple of days of class after a bout of the flu, and he was supposed to turn in his make-up homework. He cautiously peered into the room and said in a timid voice, "Professor?"

"D-Dylan?" Snape stammered. He sat on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and dead cockroaches. His eyes looked dazed and unfocused, and he was pale, trembling, and one of his hands was bleeding.

The sight of blood caused concern to override fear, and Dylan hurried into the room, glass crunching under his feet. "Professor! Are you all right?"

Snape just stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

Dylan held up the roll of parchment. "Bringing you my homework, but never mind that now." He carelessly tossed the parchment onto Snape's desk, then knelt down beside his teacher. "What happened? Are you all right? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"

"NO!" shouted Snape.

Dylan flinched, but stubbornly remained in the room even while his common sense was telling him to flee. "You're bleeding, Professor."

"It's nothing, just a scratch," Snape protested, but he was still looking pale and shaky.

Dylan looked down at the cockroaches lying among the bloody shards of glass and said, "We should at least clean your cuts, sir. Do you have any healing salve in the office?"

Snape motioned at a shelf behind his desk. Dylan took a deep breath, then grasped his teacher's arm, and to his surprise, Snape allowed Dylan to pull him to his feet and lead him over to his desk. Snape sank down into his chair, still looking shell-shocked. The cuts on Snape's hand didn't look deep enough to cause such a reaction, and Dylan wondered, a little fearfully, what could have happened to so unnerve cold, arrogant Professor Snape. 

Dylan found the jar of salve and opened it. He was looking around for a clean piece of cloth or gauze, when Snape said irritably, sounding a little more like his usual self, "Oh give that here!" Dylan handed him the jar, and Snape applied the salve to his wounds, saying curtly, "You may go now, Mr. Rosier."

Dylan was still a little worried about Snape, which gave him the courage to disobey his teacher and say, "Why don't I just clean up this mess first, sir?" He didn't wait for permission, but took out his wand and cast a few simple cleaning spells, evaporating the spilled liquids, vaporizing the dead roaches, and levitating the broken glass into a wastebasket. When he turned back to look at Snape, his teacher was staring at him with a strange, but not hostile, look on his face. "How is your hand, sir?"

Dylan half-expected Snape to tell him to mind his own business and throw him out of the office, but the Potions Master simply held out his hand. The gashes had sealed and faded to thin, red lines. "As you can see, I'm fine," Snape said gruffly. He hesitated, then added, "But thank you for your concern."

Dylan nearly fainted. Well, he had pushed his luck this far and survived, so why not go a little further? "Um...may I ask what happened, sir?"

Snape looked as though he wanted to be angry but was too weary to summon up enough energy for such a reaction. "Mr. Potter happened, Rosier. He was being particularly insolent tonight, and I lost my temper." In a dismissive tone, he started to say, "You may go now, Rosier," then he cried out in pain and grabbed his left forearm. Dylan's first reaction was concern, but then he realized that Snape was clutching the spot on his arm where the Dark Mark must be branded, and a combination of fear and excitement surged through his body.

*** 

A sharp, burning pain flared in the Mark on his left arm, and Snape cried out and clutched at it with his right hand before he could stop himself. He silently cursed himself when he saw Dylan staring at him with a frightened yet avid look in his eyes.

"Is that the Dark Mark?" Dylan asked almost eagerly, forgetting his usual caution.

"It's none of your business, Rosier!" Snape snarled, his black eyes burning with anger.

Under normal circumstances, Dylan would have dropped the subject, but these were not normal circumstances. He had spent over a year skirting around the subject of his father and the Death Eaters with Snape, and this time he wanted some answers, wanted more than just anecdotes about schoolboy pranks. "My father was one of you!" Dylan protested. "He died for your cause! Why don't you trust me? I have a right to know--"

"Do you want to be a Death Eater so badly, Mr. Rosier?" Snape spat, his face turning red with rage. "Then take a good look!" He pulled up his sleeve, exposing the skull-and-snake tattoo and shoved his arm in Dylan's face. In spite of himself, Dylan took a step back, unnerved. The Mark was a deep black, almost glowing--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was doing the opposite of glowing: its inky blackness was so dark that it seemed to be sucking the light into it, as if Snape had a miniature black hole on his arm. The skin around it was looked red and painfully inflamed. Dylan hesitantly reached out and touched it; to his surprise, Snape didn't stop him. It was hot to the touch, hotter than someone burning up with a high fever, and Dylan jerked his hand away before he could stop himself, and took another step back. This was not how he had imagined his introduction to the Death Eaters would play out, when he had pictured it in his mind...

"Do you regret joining the Death Eaters, then?" Dylan asked quietly.

"It is too late for regret, Mr. Rosier," Snape said, his voice cold now. A mask had fallen over his face, and Dylan could no longer read the expression in his black eyes. "When the Mark is burned into your arm, it is forever; there is no turning back. It can never be removed, not by magic, not even if you took a knife and tried to physically cut the skin away..." Something flickered in Snape's eyes, too quick for Dylan to read, and he wondered if Snape had tried to cut the Mark out of his arm, or known someone who had. "This is no child's game, Mr. Rosier," Snape continued, in that same cold voice. "Before you set foot down this path, be sure it is what you really want. Despite what the Headmaster says, there are no second chances."

Snape's words were both truth and lie at the same time. Yes, Dumbledore had forgiven him and given him a second chance; he had even been given a second chance at love by Lupin. But he would never truly be able to escape his first, foolish decision. Because he was still bound to Voldemort by the Mark on his arm. Still putting his life in danger in an attempt to make up for his earlier crimes. And worst of all, putting Lupin's life in danger as well. That was partly Lupin's own choice, of course, for deciding to join the Order of the Phoenix. But Voldemort would have a special punishment in mind for him if he ever discovered that Snape had betrayed him, if he ever discovered that Lupin was his lover. And that frightened Snape far more than the prospect of his own death. He had a special spell prepared, that would allow him to kill himself rather than betray his lover and the Order, should Voldemort ever try to torture the information out of him. He just hoped he would have the few seconds necessary to trigger it, should the worst happen. Of course, he had said nothing of this to Lupin or anyone else; it would distress Lupin needlessly, for there was nothing he could do about it. Hopefully, Snape would never need the spell, and Lupin would never have to know...

"My father..." Dylan whispered, confused. Was Snape a Death Eater or not? And if he was, why did he seem to be trying so hard to push Dylan away? Was this some kind of test? Once again, Dylan wondered if being a Death Eater was what he really wanted.

"Your father is dead, boy," Snape said harshly. "The Dark Lord can offer you power, wealth, and glory, yes. But such things do not come free; there is always a price. Before you make an irrevocable decision, you must be very sure that you are willing to pay that price."

 _What price did you pay?_ Dylan wondered. _And do you now regret it?_ But even if he could work up the courage to ask Snape those questions, he didn't think his teacher would answer him. Snape started to pull his sleeve back down, and Dylan noticed that he was wearing a bracelet shaped like a snake, with tiny red stones for eyes that glittered and gave the piece of jewelry an almost lifelike appearance. "Is that another token the Death Eaters wear?" Dylan asked timidly.

Snape gave him a startled look. "No," he said curtly, and pulled the sleeve of his robe down, covering both Mark and bracelet. "It is merely a trinket, but I wear it as a reminder of my past, my present, and my future."

Dylan did not know what he meant by that, and his brooding expression gave Dylan no clue. "Professor..." he started to say, but had no idea how to finish the sentence, and fell silent. 

"I am very busy, Rosier," Snape said, and Dylan turned to go, but Snape caught him by the arm, and leaned down so closely that his beaky nose nearly touched Dylan's face, and Dylan could smell the incongruent combination of bitter herbs on his robes and chocolate on his breath. It was inevitable that the strong and sometimes unpleasant odor of potion ingredients would permeate the Potions Master's robes, and all the Slytherins knew that Snape had a sweet tooth, but Dylan didn't really care about those things right now. He cringed, trying to pull away, but Snape's hand gripped his arm painfully, holding him in place. "If I ever find out that you have told anyone what we have discussed here today," Snape breathed, "anyone at all--including your mother and Mr. Malfoy--you will live just long enough to regret it. Severely. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Rosier?"

"Ye-yes, Professor," Dylan stammered. Suddenly, he was no longer sure he wanted to meet his father's Master, the great Lord Voldemort, though he had dreamed of it for years. The thought of someone scarier than Snape, the thought of someone the dreaded Potions Master himself was clearly frightened of, was too terrible to imagine. "I--I'm sorry. For my impertinence. I won't say anything."

"Then go," Snape said. He roughly pushed the boy away from him, and Dylan stumbled. He regained his balance and ran out of the room, glancing back over his shoulder one last time as he stepped through the doorway. Snape's face had an odd expression on it; he wasn't sure if it was fear, anger, concern, or all three. But he didn't have the chance to dwell on it, because Snape immediately slammed the door shut in his face. Dylan headed back to his dorm and went straight to bed.

"Are you all right?" Dylan's roommate Damien asked in concern. "Still feeling a bit under the weather?"

"Yeah, still feeling a bit sick," Dylan mumbled, pulling the covers over his head, and Damien left him in peace. He closed his eyes, but could not sleep; he kept seeing the image of the Dark Mark on Snape's arm, as if it had been burned onto the inside of his eyelids...

*** 

Snape left the castle, needing to get far enough off the grounds to Apparate and answer his Master's summons. He used the long walk to compose himself, to ruthlessly suppress the disturbing emotions that Dylan Rosier had conjured up. He had always intended to protect the boy as best he could, out of duty and guilt, but he had never meant to care about him. But Dylan's concern for him tonight had awoken something in Snape...no, that was not quite true. He had slowly, over the past year and a half, come to care for Dylan without consciously being aware of it, and now it was too late to disentangle his emotions: protecting the boy had become personal, now. It was all Lupin's fault; spending too much time with the werewolf had made him softhearted...

He should never have lost control of himself and shown Dylan the Mark on his arm, but he had still been shaken by the discovery that Potter had been spying on his thoughts in the Pensieve. But he could not afford to be so careless with Voldemort. Snape took a deep breath, and let his mind empty itself of emotion...

*** 

"You are late, Severus," Voldemort said coldly.

"I beg your pardon, Master," Snape said, kneeling before the Dark Lord. "I cannot Disapparate on the school grounds, and it took some time to get far enough away to Apparate here." He braced himself, expecting Voldemort to punish him, perhaps with a Cruciatus Curse, but nothing happened. He cautiously looked up; the Dark Lord was smiling. Apparently he was in a good mood tonight, and willing to overlook Snape's tardiness. Voldemort motioned for him to rise, and as Snape did so, he saw one of the nearby Death Eaters staring at him intently. Snape could make out nothing behind the mask except for a pair of gray eyes. Lucius had gray eyes, but he knew Lucius well, and he was reasonably certain that the robed figure staring at him was not Lucius Malfoy.

"I have a task for you, Severus," Voldemort said.

"I am eager to serve, Master," Snape replied.

"I'm sure you are, Severus," Voldemort said, forming a smile with his thin, nearly lipless mouth. He beckoned, and a Death Eater stepped forward with a small casket, similar to the one Snape had been given at the end of the summer, just before school started. From the cringing demeanor, and the silver fingers that extended past the long, black sleeve of his robe, Snape knew it was Wormtail, formerly Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail opened the casket, and Snape saw the same potion ingredients and gold Galleons that had been in the other casket, but in greater quantities. "I wish for you to brew more of the Mind Restoration Potion, Severus."

"Yes, Master," Snape said obediently as he bowed to the Dark Lord, then picked up the casket. 

"That is all, Severus; you may take your leave."

Snape bowed again, but just before he Disapparated, he saw the gray-eyed Death Eater staring at him--no, at the casket--with a look of fierce hunger in his eyes.

*** 

Against Hermione's advice, Harry snuck into Umbridge's office and used her fireplace to transport himself to Sirius's house. He emerged in the kitchen fireplace and saw a man sitting at the long, wooden table poring over a piece of parchment. "Sirius?"

The man jumped and looked up, and Harry saw that it was Lupin, not Sirius. "Harry!" he exclaimed, looking shocked. "What are you--what's happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I just wondered--I mean, I just fancied a--a chat with Sirius."

Lupin looked bewildered and concerned, but he got to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen, saying, "I'll call him." He returned a few moments later with both Sirius and Blackmore on his heels.

"What is it? Are you all right? Do you need help?" Sirius asked urgently, dropping to the ground in front of the fire so that he and Harry were on a level. Lupin knelt down too, looking very worried. Blackmore sat at the kitchen table, Bane perched on her shoulder as usual, and gazed at Harry, her green eyes unreadable.

"No, it's nothing like that," said Harry. "I just wanted to talk...about my dad..." Lupin and Sirius exchanged looks of surprise; Blackmore raised an eyebrow, but her expression did not change. Harry took a deep breath and explained what he had seen in the Pensieve.

When he finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fourteen, it was the end of our third year--"

"I'm only fifteen," Harry said heatedly, "and I've never done anything like that!"

"Look, Harry," said Sirius placatingly, "those two hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other. I think James was everything Snape wanted to be--he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James--whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry--always hated the Dark Arts." Lupin was looking at Sirius, frowning slightly.

"I could see if Snape had attacked him first," said Harry, "but he just attacked him for no good reason, just because--well, just because you said you were bored," he finished with a slightly apologetic note in his voice.

"I'm not proud of it," Sirius said quickly.

"That's a first," Lupin muttered under his breath. Then he said, "Your father and Sirius were the best at school at whatever they did; everyone--well, almost everyone--thought they were the height of cool. Sometimes they got carried away--"

"We were sometimes arrogant berks, you mean," said Sirius, and Lupin smiled.

"He kept messing up his hair," Harry said in a pained voice.

Sirius laughed, and Lupin smiled a little, but his eyes still looked troubled. "I'd forgotten he used to do that," said Sirius affectionately. "Was he playing with the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry, staring at his godfather and Lupin uncomprehendingly. "Well...I thought he was a bit of an idiot."

"Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" Sirius said bracingly. "We were all idiots! Well--not Moony, so much."

But Lupin was shaking his head. "Did I ever tell you to lay off Severus? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "you did once. You said you thought Snape followed us around because he was lonely and jealous of our friendship." He looked a little abashed as he added, "And we laughed in your face."

"And," Harry continued doggedly, "he kept looking at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!"

"Oh well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around," Sirius said with a shrug. "He couldn't stop showing off for her."

"How come she married him?" Harry asked miserably. "She hated him."

"Nah, she didn't," said Sirius. "She started going out with him in fifth year." He paused for a moment and exchanged an odd look with Lupin that Harry couldn't read. "Once James deflated his head a bit."

"And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it," added Lupin.

"Even Snape?" asked Harry.

Lupin sighed unhappily. "Severus never lost an opportunity to curse James, especially after that incident, and James wasn't the type to take that sort of thing lying down..."

Harry still looked unconvinced. Sirius frowned at him and said, "Look, your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fourteen. He grew out of it."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said heavily. "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape." He looked up at Blackmore and asked, "Is that why you didn't want to talk to me about my dad? Because you knew what a jerk he'd been? I kind of got the feeling that you didn't like him..."

"You're more perceptive than I thought, Harry," Blackmore said quietly. "More perceptive than your father, certainly. I didn't exactly dislike your father, Harry, but I disliked the way he treated Severus. Part of that could be chalked up to his youth; children can often be callow and cruel without realizing it, but there was more to it than that. As Sirius said, James hated the Dark Arts...that is why your father never really liked or trusted me."

Harry looked startled. "But you're not a Dark Wizard--"

"I was a Ravenclaw, but about half of my ancestors were Slytherins. And the Blackmores have always had a reputation for being...interested...in the Dark Arts. I have more knowledge of the Dark Arts myself than most Hogwarts graduates do, Harry." She smiled slightly at the shocked look on Harry's face. "My father thought that knowledge was a tool like any other, that could be used for either good or ill. And he made sure that I was trained in the Dark Arts because he believed that you cannot defend against that which you do not understand. My father was for the most part a good man; he loved his family and would have done anything to protect them. But he was not overly concerned about the welfare of strangers, and he turned down Dumbledore's request to help him fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters." Harry looked even more shocked. "It is ironic, then, that Voldemort had him murdered; you see, Harry, he also refused to help the Dark Lord fight Dumbledore. Most of my ancestors were what you would call 'good'; others were of rather dubious morality, neither good nor evil. But your father always saw things in black and white, as most Gryffindors do; he could not conceive of anything in between. You were either good or evil, a Dark Wizard or a good wizard. The reason he hated Severus was because he believed Severus was evil."

"And...and Professor Snape isn't evil?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"No, Harry," Blackmore said softly, with a sad smile on her face. "Severus was a very complicated boy, and is now an even more complicated man, but he was not, and is not, evil. I know he is not always a nice person, Harry, and I know that sometimes he treats you unfairly, but that does not make him evil. If you are thinking in terms of black and white, you might call Professor Snape a shade of gray. Your father did not understand that, but perhaps now, Harry, you can understand a little the reasons behind your Professor's bitterness."

Harry was silent for a moment, then he turned to Lupin and said, "And what was all that stuff in the Shrieking Shack about? You said Snape only glimpsed you through the tunnel, but in the Pensieve--"

"You saw that?" Lupin asked, sounding alarmed. "How much did you see?"

"I saw Snape come in, and you changed and attacked him, then my dad showed up and pulled him out. Then Professor Snape came in and found me looking in the Pensieve." Lupin still looked worried, but at the same time a little relieved; Harry frowned in confusion. "Why did you lie? And why was Snape acting like he was worried about you? I thought you guys hated each other."

Lupin sighed. "I lied to protect Severus's privacy, because I knew he would not want you to learn the truth about what happened. And--I never hated Severus, Harry. For the most part, while we were students at Hogwarts, he hated me, but for a very brief period of time during our fifth year, we were friends."

"Friends?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "You? And SNAPE?!"

"Yes," replied Lupin. "We worked on a class project together, and became friendly, but we kept it a secret because we knew our other friends would not approve. He tried to find out where I disappeared to every month, not to get me expelled, but because...well, because he was curious, and because he was hurt that I wouldn't tell him. But after what happened in the Shrieking Shack, he became convinced that I was in on the prank and had betrayed him, and that was the end of our friendship." Lupin looked very sad, and Sirius looked both guilty and resentful at the same time.

"But," Harry asked, "if you didn't hate him, if you were friends, then why didn't you stop Sirius and my dad from picking on him?"

Lupin flushed, looking ashamed. "I didn't stop them because I was a coward," he said quietly. "Because I never had a friend before I came to Hogwarts. I knew how much James and the others hated Severus, and I was afraid that if I defended him, then they would turn on me as well. I was scared; scared of losing their friendship and being left alone again." He smiled bitterly. "After all, how many people would befriend a werewolf?"

"Moony!" Sirius cried out, looking horrified. "We wouldn't--we would never have--"

"Really, Sirius?" Lupin asked quietly. "You wouldn't have asked why I was protecting that slimy git, wouldn't have called me a Slytherin-lover?"

"No!" insisted Sirius, but he looked a little guilty.

"You were angry at me when you found out I'd befriended Severus," Lupin reminded him. "Although you mostly blamed Severus for 'misleading' me." Sirius's face turned red, and Lupin shrugged. "Well, perhaps you were right, and I underestimated the three of you. Which only makes me more of a coward. Regardless of the consequences, though, I should never have let it happen. It is something that I will always regret and always be ashamed of."

Harry was moved by the sorrow and guilt in Lupin's eyes, and he said, "Well, you did stop it in the end, by telling them you heard Professor Blackmore coming." Professor Blackmore looked startled, and a little amused to hear that. "But you were making it up, to get them to leave Snape alone, weren't you? You didn't really hear Bane that day..."

Lupin smiled sheepishly as Sirius looked affronted, then laughed. "Clever Moony; I should have guessed..."

"That still doesn't excuse what I did, or rather, what I didn't do," Lupin said solemnly.

"And you have no excuse for what you did either, Harry," Blackmore said sternly. "You owe Professor Snape an apology. Spying on his innermost thoughts is a severe violation of his privacy."

Harry thought about retorting that Snape had seen _his_ innermost thoughts, but he knew that she was right. That had happened as part of the Occlumency lessons--during which he'd also caught a glimpse of Snape's own memories--but Harry knew that deliberately looking into the Pensieve was a completely different matter. "Yeah, I know it was wrong," Harry mumbled. "But I was so curious...I wish now I'd never looked into the Pensieve."

"Now that you mention it," Lupin said, frowning slightly, "how did Severus react when he found out you'd seen all this?"

"He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again," said Harry indifferently. "Like that's a big disappoint--"

"He WHAT?" shouted Sirius, causing Harry to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Lupin said quickly. "He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah, but it's okay, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the--"

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" Sirius said forcefully, starting to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again.

"If anyone's going to tell Severus, it will be me!" he said firmly. "But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Professor Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons--when Dumbledore hears--"

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!" Harry said, outraged. "You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve--"

"Harry, there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!" Lupin said sternly. "Do you understand me? Nothing! Severus may be angry, but he won't kill you."

"Okay, okay," said Harry, both discomposed and annoyed. "I'll...I'll try and say something to him...but it won't be..." He fell silent. He could hear distant footsteps. "Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?'

"No," said Sirius, glancing behind him. "It must be somebody your end..."

Harry's heart skipped several beats. "I'd better go!" he said hastily, and pulled his head out of the Grimmauld Place's fire. He found himself back in Umbridge's fireplace, covered himself with the Invisibility Cloak, just in time as Filch walked in the room. He managed to slip out when Filch left, and hurried back to the Gryffindor dorm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dylan gets in over his head with the Death Eaters; the battle at the Ministry ensues, and when Sirius is mortally wounded, Snape makes a surprising decision.

Dylan was practicing with the Slytherin Quidditch team late one afternoon. After the regular team practice was over, Draco asked Dylan to stay behind and work on some flying maneuvers with him. And since Draco's "requests" were usually thinly veiled orders, Dylan obliged, not seeing any harm in this particular request; besides, Dylan enjoyed flying. But as the sun began to set, Dylan finally asked, "It's getting late, Draco. Shouldn't we go in before we miss dinner?"

"Sure, Rosier," Draco said, agreeably enough. They flew down and landed on the field. As they got off their broomsticks, a black-robed figure emerged from the stands.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Dylan exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" He was uncomfortably aware that there was no one within sight or earshot besides himself and the Malfoys.

Lucius Malfoy smiled in a slow, satisfied fashion that was not at all reassuring. "There is someone who wants to meet you, Dylan," he said in a silky voice.

Dylan remembered his mother's orders to attend no secret meetings without her permission. "Um...I can't leave the school grounds or I'll get in trouble," he said nervously. "Professor Snape--"

"Severus and I are old friends," Lucius said, still smiling. "You need not worry about getting detention."

"M-my mother says--" Dylan stammered.

"Oh, you needn't worry about your mother, child. She has given her permission for this meeting." When Dylan looked at him skeptically, Lucius added, "She sends this as a token." He handed Dylan a small, shiny object.

Dylan stared down at the silver ring in his palm. The band was carved with a thorny vine design, and it was set with a red stone cut to resemble a rose; it was the companion to the ring he wore on his own hand--his mother's engagement ring. His hand closed in a fist around the ring and he shouted, "Where is my mother? What have you done with her?!"

"Take it easy, boy," Lucius said in a cool voice. "I have done nothing with her; why would I harm my old friend?"

"My mother never takes that ring off!"

"Yes, because your father gave it to her," Lucius agreed calmly. "That is why she sent it with me, so you would know it was from her. She wishes me to bring you to our meeting."

Dylan stared at Draco's father. He had no idea whether the man was telling him the truth or not, but he had no choice; he would have to go with Lucius. Either his mother really did want him to come, or she was being held against her will, and either way, he must go to her. Dylan carefully pocketed his mother's ring, took a deep breath, and said, "Very well. I will go with you."

"Father, can't I come, too?" Draco asked eagerly.

"No," Lucius said curtly.

"Why does Dylan get to go and not me?" Draco whined. "I'm a year older--"

"I said no, Draco!" Lucius snapped, and his son subsided, looking fearful and sullen at the same time. Lucius's stern expression softened just a little. "Never fear, my son; your time will come soon enough. But one thing you must learn is to follow the orders of our Master and to never question them."

"Yes, Father," Draco murmured obediently, while Dylan went cold with fear. The reference to "our Master" meant that Lucius was taking him to Voldemort! He stared at Draco with terrified, pleading eyes; silently begging him for help, hoping against hope that there was a shred of true friendship between them and not just simple expediency. But Draco just gave him a jealous, slightly puzzled look, as if he could not understand why Dylan was not overjoyed with the great honor that had just been bestowed upon him.

"Return to the castle, Draco," Lucius ordered. "I'll talk to you later."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, walking away with one last envious look, and Dylan knew that no help would be forthcoming from his "friend".

Dylan followed Lucius Malfoy off the school grounds; Malfoy stopped, pulled the hood of his black robe up, and put a mask on over his face. He said, "Come here, boy," putting his arm around Dylan in what seemed like a parody of an embrace. "You need to be close in order to Apparate with me; we wouldn't want to leave any bits of you behind by accident, now would we...?"

They reemerged in a dark, windowless room. A group of robed and masked figures formed a semicircle around a stone altar in the middle of the room. A woman dressed in a white gown lay upon it, her silver-blonde hair spilling over the sides of the stone slab.

"Mother!" screamed Dylan, and would have ran forward if Lucius had not held him back. As he struggled in Malfoy's grip, a tall figure in black robes stepped forward and the assembled Death Eaters bowed to him. This figure was not wearing a mask, and as he turned his crimson eyes upon Dylan, the boy stopped struggling and froze in place.

"Welcome, Dylan Rosier," said Lord Voldemort.

After a long moment, Dylan managed to work up enough courage to ask, "W-why have you done this? My father was your loyal servant; is this how you repay him?"

"Let him go, Lucius," Voldemort said. Malfoy let go of Dylan and took a step back. The Dark Lord raised his wand and shouted, "Crucio!" Dylan fell to the ground, screaming in pain. After a couple of minutes, Voldemort lowered his wand and the pain ceased. As Dylan struggled back to his feet, the Dark Lord said coldly, "Your first lesson as a Death Eater is never to question me, Dylan. I will not be so lenient with you the next time."

Lucius leaned over and hissed into his ear, "Say 'Yes, Master'."

"Y-yes, Master," Dylan stammered.

"You learn quickly; that is good," Voldemort said. "That pleases me, so I will answer your question, impertinent though it was. Yes, your father was loyal, and I was eager to reward his son. But alas, your mother was reluctant to let you take your rightful place. I have never been quite certain of our dear Ariane's loyalty, since she never took the Mark. But Lucius tells me that he thinks she was merely being overprotective, so perhaps we should give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, mothers often fail to see how quickly their children are growing."

"Y-yes, my Lord," Dylan said hastily. "I'm sure that's what it was. I know she did not mean to defy you."

"Then step forward, Dylan, and prove your loyalty by accepting the Dark Mark."

Dylan looked frantically around at the Death Eaters, trying to see if Professor Snape was among them, but it was almost impossible to discern the faces behind the masks. That one was too short, that other too fat, the one standing next to the fat one was a woman...

Voldemort laughed, a harsh, chilling sound. "Professor Snape is not here, Dylan," he said, seeming to read the boy's thoughts. "You may expect no help from that quarter. Severus was being a little overprotective of you as well; he seemed to think you were too young to take the Mark, and I did not want to...distress him. But you are not too young, are you, Dylan?"

What little hope Dylan had left drained out of him. "No, Master," he whispered.

"Then step forward." Voldemort frowned. "Why so reluctant? I thought you would be eager to join your father's old companions and take his place."

There was a dangerous edge to Voldemort's voice. Dylan thought quickly, knowing he could rely on no one but himself now. "I _am_ eager, my Lord. If I seem reluctant, it is only because I am aware of the great responsibility being entrusted to me; I am young and inexperienced, and I do not wish to fail you, my Lord."

Voldemort laughed again. "A smooth-talker like your father! Do not worry, Dylan--I am sure you will not fail me." His words sounded more like a threat than a reassurance.

Dylan knew he could stall no longer. He stepped forward, pulling up the left sleeve of his robe. Voldemort grasped his wrist with his long, spider-like fingers, and Dylan tried not to shudder. The Dark Lord touched his wand to Dylan's forearm, and Dylan screamed as he felt an intense, burning pain in his arm. Then it was over, and Voldemort released him. Dylan looked down at his arm with trepidation, half-expected to see that his flesh had been seared away. Arm and skin were still intact, but there was now a black skull-and-snake tattoo on his forearm: the Dark Mark, the symbol of the Death Eaters. Once he had longed to wear that Mark, but now he was repulsed by it. He staggered towards the altar, whispering, "Mother," and this time no one stopped him. Dylan saw to his relief that she was still breathing, but she did not answer when he called to her.

"She is alive," Voldemort said, "and will remain so, as long as you serve me loyally. Since you have willingly taken the Mark, I will let her be for now. My servants will return her to your family estate; it will seem as if she has collapsed from a fever, and she will remember nothing of this night. But be sure _you_ do not forget, Dylan," Voldemort added with a note of warning in his voice. He lifted his wand, and Dylan flinched involuntarily. "Ah, good, I see you remember the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. But the next time I need to punish you, it will be your mother who suffers, not you."

"There will be no next time, Master!" Dylan promised fervently, dropping to his knees.

"Good," Voldemort said, sounding satisfied. "Lucius, take him back to school; we wouldn't want him to miss any classes." 

Dylan kissed his mother on the cheek and slipped her ring back on her finger, then left with Malfoy.

*** 

Malfoy returned Dylan to the school grounds, and somehow he managed to sneak back into the castle unseen. He rubbed his still-aching arm, feeling like he wanted to throw up. _This wasn't how it was supposed to be!_ he wailed silently to himself. His induction into the Death Eaters was supposed to have been his moment of glory; the Death Eaters were supposed to be his comrades-in-arms and second family--how could they have done this, how could they have kidnapped and threatened his mother, coercing his loyalty instead of asking for it? Because, despite the doubts and reservations he'd had, if they had simply come to him and told him that they needed him, and reminded him of his duty to his late father's memory, he might still have joined them of his own free will. But too late, he realized the meaning behind Professor Snape's veiled warnings; too late, he realized the Death Eaters and Voldemort were not what he had thought they were.

He stumbled down the stairs leading to the dungeon, but instead of heading towards the Slytherin dorm, he found himself standing in front of Snape's personal quarters. "Professor Snape!" he shouted, pounding on the door. "Professor Snape!" 

The door opened, and Snape appeared behind it, looking startled and worried. "Rosier? What's wrong?"

In answer, Dylan pulled up his sleeve, revealing the Mark on his arm.

"Oh, Dylan," Snape said in a despairing voice, "what have you done?"

Dylan burst into tears and flung himself against his teacher. To his surprise, Snape did not push him away, but put an arm around him as he said, "Come inside before anyone sees you here."

***

Snape quickly pulled the boy inside and shut the door; he could not afford to have anyone see Dylan come to him like this, particularly not his Slytherin students. The boy was sobbing hysterically against his chest, and Snape awkwardly put his arms around Dylan, patting him on the back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The boy wept for a long time, but gradually his sobs grew quieter, and the trembling in his body began to cease. But instead of letting the the boy go, Snape held him more tightly, as an emotion filled him that was so unfamiliar it took him a minute or two to recognize what it was: tenderness, which he had never before felt for anyone but Lupin. Though it was of course not quite the same thing he felt for Lupin: nothing sexual, more a sense of protectiveness... _Is this the way Lupin feels about Potter?_ Snape wondered. _Is this the way a parent feels about a child?_ It was a confusing and rather frightening feeling: tenderness, anger, and helplessness all jumbled up together--anger towards anyone who might want to hurt Dylan, and helplessness, because he realized that his efforts to protect the boy had failed.

Dylan finally stopped crying, and Snape released him. The boy reluctantly pulled away, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Snape sent him to the bathroom to wash his face, and in the meantime prepared the same tea-and-brandy mixture that had helped to calm a distraught Draco Malfoy last year. However, Dylan's problems were not likely to be solved with a little chat and a cup of tea...

Dylan emerged, face freshly scrubbed but eyes still red, looking pale and chastened. He motioned for Dylan to take a seat in an armchair beside the fireplace and handed him the cup of tea. Snape sat in the chair across from him, and took a sip from his own cup, which also had brandy mixed into it--because Snape suspected he was going to need a stiff drink once he heard Dylan's story. He waited until Dylan had finished his tea-and-brandy, and some color had been restored to the boy's face before he asked softly, "Why did you not heed my warnings, Dylan?"

Dylan began to tremble again. "It wasn't--I didn't--" he stammered, then took a deep breath and said, "I had no choice. They had my mother."

"What?!"

Dylan explained everything that had happened, how Lucius Malfoy had shown up with Ariane's ring and taken him to the Death Eaters' gathering, how Voldemort had purposely refrained from summoning Snape, how the Dark Lord had threatened him into joining the Death Eaters and taking the Mark.

Snape silently cursed. This was very, very bad. He should have kept a closer eye on Dylan. What's more, it was clear that Voldemort did not trust him. Did he suspect Snape was a double agent? It would be very difficult--not to mention dangerous--to help Dylan without further arousing the Dark Lord's suspicions. He would have to talk to Dumbledore about this, but since the Headmaster was in hiding, he would be able to give only a limited amount of help. He could send Dylan away to protect him, either to Grimmauld Place or back to his family's estate; Snape was fairly certain that Mathias Donner would be able to protect his great-nephew if he knew the truth. But then Voldemort would know that Dylan had revealed his secret to someone, and would probably be able to guess who that someone was. 

"What should I do, Professor?" Dylan asked in a small and frightened voice. 

"I don't know, Rosier," Snape replied wearily, and the boy looked even more scared. "Do nothing for now," Snape said. "You must be very, very careful, or you will get us both killed." Dylan's face went white, but he nodded. "Say nothing about the meeting you attended, not even to Draco; that will be in character--a Death Eater never talks about such things with the non-initiated. Draco knows that; he will sulk, but he won't object. But you must not let Draco or the Death Eaters know how upset you are: your loyalty is already suspect, or the Dark Lord would not have coerced you the way he did. After the way you were treated, they will not expect you to be ecstatic about it, but you must appear to be determined to prove your loyalty. Perhaps, after a suitable interval of time, you can seem to be proud to be carrying on in your father's footsteps. You must appear to be cold, arrogant, and confident, and never show weakness or uncertainty to anyone--especially not your housemates." Snape hesitated. "And it would probably be wise for you to sever your relationship with Miss Granger."

"You know about that?" Dylan asked in surprise.

Snape smiled, just a little. "Yes. I have my sources, Rosier, which I cannot reveal, but I do not think any of the Slytherins are aware of it, and I would like to keep it that way. No Death Eater can befriend a Gryffindor; to do so would put both yourself and Miss Granger in jeopardy."

Dylan felt his heart sink. He had known he would probably have to give up Hermione one day, but he had not expected it to hurt so much. "Yes, Professor," he whispered sadly. "What about my family? Should I say anything to them?"

"No!" Snape said emphatically. "At least, not yet. We cannot risk alerting the Death Eaters to the fact that you are, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about your new status. There are ways I might be able to help you, but it will take time. Try to behave normally for now, as if nothing has happened. I know that will be difficult--"

"Don't worry, Professor," Dylan said bitterly. "I've been playing a role my entire life. I can keep up the act a bit longer."

The bitterness, and the need to hide behind a mask, were very familiar to Snape. _Please, please, don't let the boy turn out like me,_ he silently pleaded, though he was not sure who he was talking to. Aloud, he said, "Try to avoid going anywhere alone, especially with Draco Malfoy."

"I will, Professor, but--"

"I will assign you a special project," Snape interrupted, "assisting me with a potion. That will take up most of your free time and give you an excuse to avoid Malfoy."

"Yes, sir. But what if--" Dylan's voice faltered. "What if the Dark Lord summons me?"

"You know how the Dark Lord summons his Death Eaters, don't you? You saw it happen that night in my office..." Dylan nodded. "You will know when it happens; the Mark will turn black and burn. We are supposed to Apparate immediately to our Master's side when that happens, but they cannot expect that of you, since you are too young to Apparate." Snape frowned, saying, "Come to think of it, that is probably why your father, Lyall Wilkes, and I were not inducted until we were over eighteen." He wondered why Voldemort was recruiting Dylan so young; was he really that desperate for "new blood," as Lucius had hinted? "In any case, if you feel the Mark burn, come to me at once. If you are summoned, I will probably be expected to Apparate us both to the meeting place."

Dylan shuddered, but nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"If we are lucky, that will not happen. Since you are so young, and unable to Apparate, any instructions the Dark Lord wishes to give you may be passed along in a more conventional manner." At least, Snape hoped so. "In the meantime, I will attempt to ascertain what the Dark Lord expects from you, and I will try to deflect his attention away from you, but to be honest, Rosier, I don't know how much I can do..."

"I understand," Dylan whispered. "They don't really trust you, either, do they? Or you would have been summoned to the meeting along with the others."

The boy was very perceptive, which was dangerous. He was too young to guard his mind against Voldemort, and if the Dark Lord realized Snape was helping him this way, he could lose not only his cover, but his life. But he had failed to save Dylan's father and Evan's friend Wilkes; he would not fail Dylan as well.

_Is it worth risking so much just for one boy?_ Snape's inner voice quietly asked. _Whether you are killed or your cover is just exposed, countless innocents could die if the Order no longer has access to the information you've been feeding them about the Dark Lord's plans._

_After all I have risked for the Order,_ Snape replied fiercely, _I am entitled to one selfish request. I will not let the boy be sacrificed, not even to save those "countless innocents". I will save him, no matter what!_

"Professor?" Dylan asked quietly. "Why are you helping me? What...what turned you against the Death Eaters?"

They were treading on dangerous territory again. "Let us simply say that I am trying to atone for mistakes I made in the past," Snape said grimly. "I had hoped to prevent you from making the same foolish choices I did, but..."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said, bowing his head.

"You had no other choice," Snape said. "At least you did it only to save your mother; I joined the Death Eaters of my own free will, so I have no such excuse."

"I might have done it anyway," Dylan admitted. "If they had asked me instead of forced me. I didn't know what they were really like. Mother said that my father regarded the Death Eaters as a second family. Families aren't supposed to do such things to each other." Dylan laughed bitterly. "Then again, look at my own family--my grandmother disowned my mother, and my uncles raped their uncle's apprentice! So perhaps the Death Eaters really are a family...but I had hoped they would be a more loving one!"

"The Dark Lord believes love is a weakness," Snape said quietly. "You can expect no mercy, no affection, from your new 'family'."

"I know that now," Dylan sighed. "I should have paid more attention to what you told me, I should have been more careful..."

"It is too late for what-ifs," Snape said. "But I will protect you as best I can."

"Thank you, Professor," Dylan whispered.

"In order to do that," Snape continued, "you must allow me access to your mind." Dylan looked up, startled, as Snape reached into his robe and pulled out his wand. "I must put blocks around the memories of this conversation and the others we have had, so that the Dark Lord does not see them and realize that we are working against him."

"The Dark Lord can read minds?" Dylan asked fearfully.

Snape sighed; he had already had this conversation with Potter, and he didn't feel like going through it again. "It's not that simple, Rosier, but I don't have time to explain it right now. Suffice it to say that the Dark Lord is able to delve into another person's mind and gain access to that person's feelings and memories. We need to prevent him from gaining access to yours." Perhaps Snape ought to be teaching Occlumency to Rosier along with Potter; he would have to speak to the Headmaster about it. Then he inwardly flinched, feeling a twinge of guilt as he remembered how he had discontinued Potter's lessons after catching him spying in the Pensieve. He knew the Headmaster would not be pleased to hear that...

Dylan interrupted his thoughts, asking nervously, "Are you going to use a Memory Charm, sir? Will I forget what we've discussed?"

"No, that would be pointless since I need you to remember my instructions. I will merely be putting a wall of sorts around your thoughts, so that the Dark Lord will not be able to see them, but you will still have access to them."

"All right, sir." Dylan still looked confused, but seemed willing to take Snape at his word. "What do I have to do?"

"Just try to relax, and not to fight me. It will be disconcerting to have someone else enter your mind, but I won't hurt you, and I'll do this as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir." 

Snape lifted his wand and cast the spell. He found himself inside Dylan's mind, images flashing before him: Ariane, young and beautiful, singing a lullaby; Gwydion Donner sneering and berating a young Dylan; Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball, looking surprisingly lovely, at least from the perspective of Dylan's gaze. Then more recent memories, still sharp with fear: Lucius Malfoy holding Ariane's ring; Voldemort's red eyes; the excruciating pain of the Mark being branded into Dylan's arm... He felt the boy begin to panic and resist Snape's exploration of his mind. Snape tried to send out soothing thoughts, and he felt Dylan make a conscious effort to let down his defenses. Snape was a little surprised at the control the boy showed; he would be a natural at Occlumency...but now was not the time to be thinking about that. He quickly found the memories he was looking for and blocked them off, effectively hiding them from anyone who might be searching Dylan's mind. Then he exited the boy's mind and ended the spell.

Dylan blinked, looking pale and a little shaken. "Is...that it? Are you finished?"

"Yes," Snape said, then added approvingly, "you did very well," and Dylan managed a small but sincere smile. "You should go back to your dorm now, before anyone gets suspicious."

"Yes sir." He rose from his chair and said in a quiet but heartfelt voice, "Thank you, Professor. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Snape said, and watched the boy leave, still feeling strange. He was not quite sure how to deal with these new emotions; it had been bad enough having one hostage to fortune--Lupin--and now he had two to worry about. He wasn't entirely sure that Voldemort was wrong about love being a weakness...

*** 

Snape sat in his chair staring at the fire for a long time after Dylan left, but he finally got to his feet and headed for his bedroom. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he needed to contact the Order and pass along this new information. He touched the bottom drawer of his desk, reciting a brief charm to unlock the warding spell that prevented anyone but him from opening it, then pulled open the drawer and took out a small, round mirror that was hidden under a pile of papers and wrapped in a piece of cloth. As he unwrapped the cloth, he was surprised to find that a small light was flashing from inside the glass, which meant that someone from the Order had been trying to contact him. The light was blue (they were each assigned different colors), which meant that person was Lupin. Snape looked into the mirror and called, "Lupin? Lupin, are you there?"

Lupin's face appeared in the mirror, looking anxious. "Severus! I've been trying to contact you!"

"Well, I've been a bit busy, Lupin," Snape said waspishly. "I just had a visit from Dylan Rosier..." He quickly told Lupin what had happened.

"Oh no!" Lupin said, looking dismayed. "That poor boy! I'll pass that information on to Albus; will Dylan be safe at Hogwarts in the meantime?"

"I think so," Snape replied. "If they had wanted to kill him, he'd already be dead. They must think he can be of some use to them, which means they'll keep him alive. For now, anyway..."

"All right," Lupin said, still looking worried. "But please be careful, for your sake as well as Dylan's. I don't like the fact that Voldemort--" Snape flinched a little as Lupin spoke the Dark Lord's name out loud. "--didn't summon you to the meeting. I'm worried that he may suspect something."

"He may just think I'm too soft on Dylan," Snape suggested, but Lupin didn't look convinced, probably because Snape wasn't either. Snape shrugged and said, "Well, what applies to Dylan applies to me as well: as long as I'm still useful to him, the Dark Lord won't kill me. And he wants me to brew more of that Mind Restoration Potion; I still don't know why. The Azkaban escapees seem sane enough, at least by Death Eater standards... By the way, what did you want, Lupin?"

Lupin gave him a hard stare. "Don't you have something else you want to tell me, Severus?"

Snape felt a sinking feeling in his stomach; he suspected he knew what Lupin was talking about, but he said in a cold voice, "I don't have time to play guessing games, Lupin. If you have something to say, just say it."

"Very well," Lupin said, looking a little disappointed in him, and Snape felt a sharp stab of resentment. "I know you stopped Harry's Occlumency lessons."

Snape's face went red, with both anger and embarrassment. "I should have known that brat would break his promise! I told him not to say anything--"

"It's not a promise he should have kept," Lupin interrupted. "You know how important these lessons are!"

"Did he tell you what he did?!" Snape shouted.

"I know he looked into the Pensieve," Lupin said quietly. "But--"

"He saw us in the Shrieking Shack!" Snape screamed. "Who knows what else he saw?!"

"He saw the incident in the Shrieking Shack," Lupin said, still in that quiet voice, "and that time by the lake, right after final exams at the end of our third year. Nothing else."

"That's all?" Snape asked.

"That's all," Lupin replied. "He still doesn't know that we are, or were, lovers, Severus."

Snape breathed a brief sigh of relief, then scowled. "Well, that's still bad enough! He saw me humiliated by his dear father and godfather--did he have a good laugh about it?"

"No, Severus. Harry isn't that kind of person; he was horrified by what he saw. That was why he contacted us, because he was so disturbed by how he saw his father behaving--"

Snape laughed, harshly and mirthlessly. "So he finally saw that his precious father wasn't such a saint after all!"

Lupin sighed. "Yes, he saw that James was not perfect."

"But I suppose you and Black made excuses for him," Snape sneered. "You always did; everyone always overlooked James Potter's faults, the noble Gryffindor hero--"

"That's not fair, Severus," Lupin protested.

"Don't tell me what's fair, Lupin!" Snape said furiously. "Was it fair that your three friends ganged up on me because they were too cowardly to face me alone? Was it fair that they stripped me and humiliated me in front of half the school? Was it fair that you stood by and did nothing while it happened?!"

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said helplessly, his eyes filling with tears, but Snape was not moved.

"You have no idea, Lupin!" Snape ranted. "You have no idea what it's like, to feel so violated, to know that Potter's son has seen the way his father humiliated me, to know that he's seen my most private and painful memories!"

"I know what it's like to be helpless, Severus, because I am reminded every month that I lose control of my body to the full moon," Lupin said quietly. "And I know what it's like to be humiliated."

Snape flushed with guilt; he was the one who had humiliated Lupin, exposing the secret of his lycanthropy to the entire school, and the students and parents had quickly passed on the gossip till it had spread through most of the wizarding world. But Lupin rarely reminded him of it, and Snape said accusingly, "So you're taking Potter's side?"

"No, Severus," Lupin said patiently. "I know what Harry did was wrong. So punish him--give him a month's detention, a year's detention, take a hundred points from Gryffindor--but you must not stop the Occlumency lessons."

"Do you think detention or points will make up for what Potter did to me?!" Snape screamed.

A little annoyance was starting to creep into the sympathetic expression on Lupin's face. "No, Severus, I do not, but the lessons are more important than your pride."

"I won't teach that brat after what he did to me!" Snape roared, letting Lupin see only his rage, unable to tell his lover that the real reason he didn't want to teach Potter was that he couldn't bring himself to look the boy in the eye even during Potions class. He was too ashamed and humiliated to face Potter, knowing the boy had seen him rendered weak and helpless in the Pensieve memories. It also awoke in him the old feelings of loneliness and jealousy, and of course the old hatred for Potter's father, which had been transferred to the son...

"Severus!" Lupin shouted. "You can't stop the lessons! Hate Harry if you want, but you cannot stop the lessons! You of all people know how important it is for Harry to be able to block Voldemort out of his mind! My life, your life, the lives of all the Order members could be jeopardized if Voldemort gains control of Harry! Not to mention all the people who will die if we are unable to defeat Voldemort--"

"STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" screeched Snape. Lupin stared at him in shock, and Snape blushed with shame, because he had never told Lupin that he was afraid to speak the Dark Lord's name aloud, although Lupin had probably noticed by now that he never referred to Voldemort by name.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said gently. "I don't want to argue with you, but I must insist that you begin teaching Harry again, or I will have to tell Dumbledore about this."

Snape stared at Lupin with something that was very close to hatred. "All right," he said, spitting the words out of his mouth. "But I'm not going to go to the boy and beg him to come back. Tell him to come to my office, and tell him I expect an apology--and it had better be a good one--before I start teaching him again."

"Branwen has already given him a lecture and told him to apologize to you," Lupin said. "And I told him to go to you as soon as possible and tell you that you must not stop the lessons. So he will probably come to you tomorrow."

"Very well," Snape said curtly. "When you contact Dumbledore, tell him I'm going to start teaching Dylan Occlumency as well--at different times, of course; I won't tell him that I'm teaching Potter." Snape had changed his mind about asking Dumbledore's permission first; if they were going to force him to teach Potter, then by Merlin, he was entitled to teach a student of his choosing, one more talented, motivated, and deserving than Mr. Potter...

Lupin looked startled. "But--"

"What applies to Potter, applies to Dylan as well, Lupin," Snape snapped. "He has to be able to block the Dark Lord out of his mind, or his Master will soon see that Dylan is not a sincere convert, and that I have been trying to save him from the Death Eaters. I placed a few blocks around his memories, but I cannot continue to do that indefinitely. It is very difficult to single out a specific memory, and it will only grow harder as the memories continue to accumulate. He must be able to fend off the Dark Lord on his own eventually. Of course," Snape said in a bitter voice, "Dylan is unimportant, so perhaps no one but me cares whether he is saved or not. After all, he is merely the son of a deceased Death Eater, not the savior of the wizarding world like Mr. Harry Potter--"

"You know that's not true, Severus!" Lupin said angrily. "Dumbledore fought for Dylan to be admitted to Hogwarts, Flitwick has defended him as well, and I care what happens to Dylan even though I have never met him! I care because I don't want to see any child put in danger, but I care especially because he is important to you, Severus!"

Snape flushed, more than a little discomposed--how could Lupin have known that Snape cared about Dylan before Snape had realized it himself? "All right," he mumbled. "Then you understand why it's important for me to teach him."

"Yes, I do, but I still think you should consult with Albus first--"

"I don't have time to wait for Dumbledore's reply, and quite frankly, Lupin, I don't much care what you think." Snape felt mingled guilt and satisfaction at Lupin's hurt and startled look. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a great deal of work to do--"

"Severus, wait!" Lupin cried. "Please--I know you're angry, but I don't want this to come between us--"

Lupin looked frightened; a spiteful part of Snape was glad, but another part of him felt ashamed of that reaction.

"Please, Severus," Lupin said softly. "I don't want to lose you over this..." He stared at Snape with pleading, tearful eyes.

Snape remembered that look--he had seen it after the Shrieking Shack, when Lupin had tried to tell him that he had not known what Black was going to do. He felt uneasy; he didn't want to lose Lupin either, but he was not ready to forgive him yet. Snape stared at Lupin's image in the mirror for a long time, then finally said, "You won't lose me. But right now, Lupin, I really don't feel like looking at your face."

"Severus--" Lupin said, the tears spilling out of his eyes, and Snape broke off contact. The mirror went blank, and he sat there staring at his own reflection, hating Lupin though he still loved him, and hating himself even more.

*** 

Snape braced himself to face Potter, but the boy did not come to his office, and he secretly felt relieved. In Potions class, he and Potter ignored each other as much as was humanly possible. _It's not my fault,_ Snape told himself. _I told Lupin I wouldn't teach the boy unless he came and apologized to me first._ But deep inside, he felt guilty, because he knew he should be continuing the lessons, or at the very least he should inform Lupin that Potter had not shown up for them. But he kept putting it off, telling himself that he would contact Lupin tomorrow. And when tomorrow came, he would put it off again, just for another day or two...

He did assign Dylan to work with him afterschool on the Mind Restoration Potion, although he didn't tell Dylan what it was. The less he knew about Death Eater business, the better, Snape figured. Snape had to do the actual brewing himself, as it was too delicate a process for even a talented student to handle, but he did allow Dylan to assist him in preparing the ingredients. 

He also began Dylan's Occlumency lessons, using Dylan's "special project" as a cover. As far as the rest of the school was concerned, Dylan was assisting Snape in potion-brewing. It was a little unusual, but not completely unexpected, for a teacher to take an exceptionally talented young student under his wing and single him out for special attention. And most times, Dylan actually was helping him with the Mind Restoration Potion. But twice a week, after working on the potion, Snape taught Dylan Occlumency. And this time, although Dylan was much better behaved than Potter, Snape took no chances--he removed his thoughts well before Dylan arrived for his lessons, hid the Pensieve out of sight in a cabinet, and did not restore the thoughts to his head until after Dylan had left.

The boy, as Snape had suspected, was a natural; he certainly learned much more quickly than Potter had. _Though perhaps,_ his conscience nagged, _that's because you're more patient with Dylan than with Potter..._ The only problem Dylan had was that his fear and respect for Snape were so deeply ingrained that he found it difficult to attack his teacher...

"Damn it, Rosier!" Snape said in frustration. "You have to defend yourself, or you'll be helpless before the Dark Lord!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan. "It's just--it's difficult to bring myself to attack a teacher, especially you!"

Snape smiled in spite of himself, then said dryly, "Don't worry about hurting me, Rosier. I think I can manage to defend myself against a fourth-year student." Dylan blushed. "But you must try to ward off my attacks!"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's try this again, shall we? Empty your mind of emotion, and on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!"

*** 

To Dylan's great relief, he received no further summonses from the Dark Lord. Draco eagerly asked him what had happened that night, but Dylan replied, as Snape had instructed, that he was not allowed to talk about it. And as Snape had predicted, Draco sulked but didn't try to force the issue.

"Don't worry, Draco," Dylan said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I'm sure they'll summon you soon." _If you only knew what you were in for!_ "Your father is the top-ranked advisor of our Lord, after all."

"That's right," Draco said, sounding happier as drew himself up with pride.

"Probably they have something special planned for when you join; maybe that's why you have to wait longer." _I just hope, for your sake, that "something special" isn't your mother laid out on an altar like a sacrificial lamb!_

"You're probably right, Rosier," Draco agreed, his hurt pride salved, and their relationship went more or less back to normal.

 

Hermione was harder to handle. He tried to avoid her, but she cornered him in the library one day. "Dylan, I want to tell you what I've been doing for S.P.E.W.--"

"I can't be a part of S.P.E.W. anymore," Dylan said, cutting her off. He reached into his pocket and handed her his badge.

She looked at him, confusion and concern on her face. "What happened, did Draco find out--?"

"No," Dylan said curtly. "But I can no longer take the chance that any of my housemates might find out about it if I wish to advance in Slytherin House. In fact, I think it's best that we don't see each other at all anymore." Hermione flinched, as if he had slapped her, and Dylan forced himself to continue in a cold voice, "It's nothing personal, Hermione, but it just isn't possible for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to be friends. Not if I wish to make something of myself in the wizarding world."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she said angrily, "I didn't know you cared so much about ambition and advancement, Dylan Rosier! But I guess you were sorted into the right house, after all! And after I defended you to Ron and Harry and everyone else who said, 'you can't trust a Slytherin'!" She turned on her heel and ran out of the library.

Dylan wanted to stop her, to tell her that he didn't really mean it, but he reminded himself that it was for her own safety--and his mother's as well, for if the Dark Lord believed Dylan was a traitor he would hurt, perhaps even kill, Ariane. So he stood and did nothing, even though it felt like his heart was breaking. _I was fooling myself, Father,_ he thought, looking down at his ring. _I'm not such a ladies' man after all; there is only one girl I really want. But perhaps we are alike after all, for in the end you truly loved only one woman--my mother. But maybe she would have been better off if you had let her go..._

*** 

The one consolation he had was his after-hours work with Professor Snape. The Potions Master set him to work preparing ingredients for some devilishly complicated potion that had to be prepared to exacting specifications. He was pleased that Snape trusted him enough to let him help, although he would not tell Dylan what the potion was, or why they were making it, which made him suspect that it had something to do with the Death Eaters. So he did not ask, although he was very curious, because Professor Snape clearly thought it was something he was better off not knowing, and after all Snape had done to help him, it wasn't Dylan's place to question his teacher's judgment. And also, he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the fragile bond that had seemed to develop between them; their shared secret had somehow brought them closer.

If someone had told him before this that Snape would hold and comfort a crying student, Dylan would have laughed in their face. But Snape had done exactly that, and risked his own safety to help Dylan, for no reason that he could see other than his supposed friendship with Dylan's father, and Dylan had already guessed that they had never really been close. But for whatever reason, Snape was protecting Dylan, and treating him kindly, in his own gruff way--he had even unbent enough to smile at Dylan a couple of times when he had performed well during the potion-making or his Occlumency lessons.

Dylan was progressing well in Occlumency, except that he found it difficult to bring himself to actually attack Snape, even with his teacher's permission. He could drain himself of emotion, and set up a protective wall around his thoughts, but not actively fight off Snape's attacks...

He felt Snape break through his defenses and a series of images rushed through his mind: Deirdre Donner telling Ariane, "Don't call me 'Mother'--you are no daughter of mine! We saved you from Azkaban only so you would not further shame the Donner name!"...Dull-witted Uncle Gilbert, who still had enough sanity left to hate Dylan, sneering, "You little Slytherin bastard!"...Uncle Gwydion telling an eleven-year old Dylan, "You will never be found fit to enter Hogwarts, you slimy little spawn of a Death Eater..."...And finally, his grandmother spitting out the words, "Tainted blood!"

"Damn it, Rosier!" Snape said; his voice was angry, but there was something like pity in his dark eyes, and Dylan felt ashamed that his teacher had seen him being berated and humiliated by his relatives. "You have to defend yourself, or you'll be helpless before the Dark Lord!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan. "It's just--it's difficult to bring myself to attack a teacher, especially you!"

Snape said dryly, "Don't worry about hurting me, Rosier. I think I can manage to defend myself against a fourth-year student." 

Dylan blushed, feeling rather silly; of course there was no way he could actually hurt a wizard as powerful as Snape! But it was not really fear for Snape that had stopped him--it was more fear _of_ Snape, as well as his admiration for his teacher that made it difficult...

"But you must try to ward off my attacks!" Snape was insisting.

"Yes, sir."

"Let's try this again, shall we? Empty your mind of emotion, and on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!"

This time when he felt his teacher attack his defenses, Dylan raised his wand and shouted the first spell that came to mind: "Impedimenta!" 

He felt the attack halt as Snape stumbled backwards a step, and suddenly he was seeing memories that were not his own: A young boy with black hair and a beaky nose performed a spell far advanced beyond his years as a man with a similar nose watched closely; the boy's face fell when his only reward was a curt nod...The same boy, his face lighting up as Professor Dumbledore entered his room and sat down to play a game of wizard chess with him...The boy, a few years older now, sitting in a classroom, looking proud and pleased with himself as a beautiful woman with long black hair and green eyes smiled at him and said, "Very good; Severus--ten points to Slytherin!"...The same boy hiding behind a tree near the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, watching with an intense, almost hungry look in his eyes as four boys laughed and played with a Golden Snitch: one was small and mousy, one was tall and handsome, one looked just like Potter, but it was the last boy that the young Snape seemed to be watching most closely--a thin, pale boy with long, untidy brown hair and blue eyes...

"Enough!" shouted Snape, and the visions ceased. Dylan blinked, and saw that Snape was breathing hard and looking paler than usual.

"Are you all right, Professor?" Dylan asked anxiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"It's all right, Rosier," Snape said curtly, cutting him off. "You did well."

"I did?" Dylan asked eagerly.

"Yes," Snape said. "Better than I had expected; I will have to be more careful in the future." There was an odd look in his black eyes, and Dylan felt extremely uncomfortable knowing that he had seen what were clearly some of his teacher's childhood memories. "Well, it seems you have gotten over your fear of attacking me," Snape continued, a hint of dry humor in his voice, and Dylan blushed again. "I think that's enough for tonight; continue practicing your mental exercises. Eventually, when you are strong enough, you will be able to ward off attacks solely with your mind, and not need to resort to using a wand. Now run along, or you'll be late for dinner."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, and left Snape's workshop. As he headed for the Great Hall, he was still distracted, and a little disturbed by what he had seen. Young Snape had looked so vulnerable and hungry for approval, so much different than the adult Snape who was cold and arrogant and didn't seem to care what anyone thought of him...but of course he could not be as cold as he appeared, or he would never have helped Dylan. And Dylan knew that Snape had hated Potter's father when they were students, but who was the long-haired boy that the teenaged Snape had been staring at so intently...?

*** 

Lupin sat in his room, brooding. He was trying to read a letter from Professor Kamiyama, but he could not concentrate hard enough to translate the Japanese characters into English; every time he tried, he got distracted by thoughts of Severus. And he could not talk about it with Sirius, nor with Branwen for fear of Sirius overhearing them, because Sirius was still angry at Snape about the Occlumency lessons, and Lupin didn't want to add fuel to that fire--things were bad enough as they were without making them worse.

Lupin was deeply hurt by Severus's last words--"But right now, Lupin, I really don't feel like looking at your face"--and scared, for the first time in two years, of losing Severus. Oh, he knew that deep down, Severus really did love him, and he tried to reassure himself with the the fact that Severus had also said, "You won't lose me." _He's angry, but he'll forgive me eventually,_ Lupin told himself. _He just needs some time to cool off._

But there had been a profound look of pain and anger in Severus's black eyes, such as Lupin had not seen since Sirius had returned to Hogwarts and Severus had believed that Lupin had betrayed him. One could not really say that Severus was scarred by the past, for scarring implied healing; Severus's wounds ran deep, and were still raw and unhealed. Lupin was very afraid that Severus would never be able to get over the past, never be able to let go of his hatred for James and Sirius; Severus was incapable of being rational about those two, and by extension, Harry.

And although they loved each other, and had for the most part a satisfactory--better than satisfactory!--relationship, at times the past lay between them like an unbridgeable gulf. Lupin was still haunted by the fact that he had failed to protect Severus in school, and Lupin knew that whenever Severus brooded about the past he was reminded that his feelings of love for Lupin had been mixed with equal parts of resentment and hatred. 

Even though they had each forgiven the other for whatever hurts, intentional and unintentional, that they had inflicted on each other, and even though Severus had proved his love for Lupin countless times over, Lupin knew that Severus still harbored some resentment towards him. It was buried deep, and emerged only occasionally, usually when Severus was in a bad mood and lost his temper, and he usually apologized afterwards, but it was still there. Lupin did not hold it against him; he only wished he could ease his lover's pain. But Lupin knew he could not expect Severus to suddenly become a carefree, light-hearted creature when he had spent most of his life building up walls to keep other people out. Bitterness had become so much a part of Severus that Lupin could not imagine what he would be like without it.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Lupin put what he hoped was a cheerful smile on his face and said, "Come in." To his relief, it was Branwen and not Sirius.

"Are you all right, Remus?" Branwen asked. 

_So much for the cheerful smile,_ Lupin thought in consternation.

"You are a talented mage, Remus," Branwen said with a smile, "but a very bad actor. Did you and Severus have a fight?"

"Sort of," Lupin sighed. "To say he's upset about Harry looking at his memories would be an understatement, and he was angry at me for insisting that he continue the Occlumency lessons. But he'll get over it. Eventually. I hope."

"He loves you, Remus," Branwen said reassuringly. "He'll forgive you. Though really, you haven't done anything that requires forgiveness; you were right about the Occlumency lessons and he knows it...which is probably why he's so angry."

"It's more than that," Lupin said unhappily. Unconsciously, he pulled out the quartz good-luck charm he always wore around his neck--his first Christmas present from Severus twenty years ago--and began fiddling with it. "He was reminded of our past; he's never really gotten over the way James treated him, and he's never gotten over the fact that I supposedly chose my friends over him. And maybe he's right about that," Lupin sighed. "I never stood up for him directly, and even when we became lovers, we kept it a secret, as if it were something to be ashamed of."

"As I recall, Severus was just as determined to keep your relationship hidden from the Slytherins as you were to keep it from the Gryffindors."

"And after we broke up," Lupin continued, ignoring Branwen's words, "I let him go. I should have tried harder to win him back; I should never have let him go over to Malfoy..."

"There is no point crying over spilled milk, Mr. Lupin," Branwen said impatiently, sounding like the stern Professor Blackmore he remembered from his schoolboy days, and Lupin smiled.

"I suppose I am wallowing in self-pity," Lupin admitted. "But Severus's wounds have never really healed. He has never forgiven James and Sirius, and I suspect a part of him cannot forgive me, even though he does love me..."

"Severus would make a good demon," Branwen said dryly, and Lupin looked puzzled. She smiled and said, "My grandfather Araqiel once told me demons never forgive and never forget."

"Yes, that sounds like Severus, all right," Lupin sighed. "Though I suppose he has forgiven me, or we would not be together, but I know he cannot forget the way I hurt him."

Branwen sighed also. "I'm afraid that Sirius is not the only one who needs to grow up..."

"It's not that simple, Branwen. Severus sees love as a kind of weakness...and his memories of the past only serve to confirm that theory." Lupin smiled sadly. "I suppose that's why he's so insistent that we keep our relationship a secret even now; he doesn't want to publicly expose his vulnerabilities. Come to think of it, that's probably why he's so good at Occlumency; he's spent his entire life hiding his emotions from the outside world..."

"Yes," Branwen murmured musingly. "That would be in character with his upbringing; his father always despised what he called 'sentimental fools'...but Remus, I don't think you should let this fester. Perhaps you should contact Severus--"

Lupin shook his head. "No, not while he's in this sort of mood, especially when I can't talk to him face-to-face. It's better to let him calm down a little, first." If Severus had been physically present, Lupin was sure he could cajole him out of his bad mood, but it was much harder when they had to communicate by mirror, when Severus could sever contact anytime he got in a snit. Well, that wasn't really fair...the time they spent apart was putting a strain on them both...

Branwen looked skeptical, but didn't argue. "Did you contact Dumbledore?"

"Yes, he was upset to hear about what happened, but he seems to blame himself more than Severus. He said he has placed so many burdens upon Severus, and perhaps this was one burden too many. But he was reassured to hear that Severus agreed to start the lessons again."

"And what did he say about Dylan Rosier?"

"He was concerned, of course, but agrees that Dylan should remain at school for now. He says he will contact Dylan's great-uncle, Mathias Donner, and warn him. He was a bit taken aback to hear that Severus insists on teaching Dylan Occlumency, but agrees that it's a good idea."

Branwen nodded. "Good; at least that's settled. Have you heard from Severus or Harry about whether he's actually resumed the lessons yet?"

"No, not yet. But Harry doesn't have a safe way to contact us, and Severus probably doesn't want to talk to me right now."

Branwen frowned. "This is more important than Severus's hurt pride, Remus. I'll contact him if you don't want to--"

"No!" said Lupin. "Please, Branwen, he'll be hurt and even more angry if he thinks we don't trust him." _And then it will take him even longer to forgive me,_ Lupin thought. Aloud, he said, "It will be all right, Branwen. However angry he might be, I have never known Severus Snape to break a promise. If he says he'll teach Harry, then he will."

His former teacher frowned again, but said, "Very well, Remus. You know him best, I suppose; I'll trust your judgment."

*** 

Harry did not keep his promise to Lupin about talking to Snape; he kept putting it off, telling himself that he was giving Snape time to cool down. Harry was a little afraid of how Snape would react during Potions class, expecting Snape to be even nastier towards him than usual, but Snape had apparently decided to deal with the matter by behaving as if Harry did not exist. Since that was a distinct improvement over how Snape had treated him before, Harry made no complaint. If Lupin had told Snape to continue the Occlumency lessons, Snape must be ignoring him as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. He felt a little guilty every now and then, but Harry figured he had enough to deal with studying for his O.W.L.s without having to take extra classes. _After the O.W.L.s are over,_ Harry told himself, trying to ease his guilty conscience, _then maybe I'll go talk to Snape..._

But that never happened, because during the History of Magic exam, Harry had a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius, trying to force him to take a glass sphere down from a shelf in the Department of Mysteries--the mysterious weapon Voldemort had been seeking? Hermione tried to tell him that Voldemort might be trying to trick him, but he couldn't take that chance. Harry was all for heading straight to the Department of Mysteries, but finally he agreed to try and contact Sirius first in Umbridge's fireplace.

His friends arranged a distraction so he could get into her office, but Kreacher answered his call instead of Sirius. "Where has Sirius gone?" Harry yelled. "Kreacher, has he gone to the Department of Mysteries?!"

"Master does not tell poor Kreacher where he is going."

"But you know! Don't you? You know where he is!"

The elf paused, then cackled, "Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries! Kreacher and his Mistress are alone again!"

Then Harry felt a sharp pain on the top of his head; Umbridge was dragging him out of the fireplace by his hair. Malfoy was leaning on the windowsill smirking at him as his Slytherin classmates dragged in Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked to be in immediate danger of suffocation. Umbridge sent Draco off to fetch Professor Snape.

*** 

Malfoy burst into Snape's office, looking extremely smug, and told him that Headmistress Umbridge wanted to see him. As they headed for her office, Malfoy nattered on about how Potter and his friends were in big trouble this time, and would probably be expelled.

 _Damn that brat,_ Snape thought sourly. _What has he done this time? And how am I supposed to get him out of trouble without exposing my cover?_

Snape entered Umbridge's office and looked around indifferently at the pairs of struggling students as he said, "You wanted to see me, Headmistress?"

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge with a wide smile. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he lied coolly. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient." Of course the Veritaserum he had given her earlier had been fake, anyway. He supposed he could give her another fake bottle, but he thought it would be better to try and bluff his way out of this, because he didn't think Potter would be able to lie convincingly enough.

Umbridge flushed. "You can make some more, can't you?" 

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling in a sneer. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge. "A MONTH? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" Snape blinked, feigning an air of mild interest as he looked at Potter. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules." He stared into Potter's eyes, and Potter stared back at him unflinchingly, as if trying to tell him something. For the first time, Snape cursed himself for not continuing Potter's Occlumency lessons; if he had, perhaps he might have been able to pick up a hint from Potter's mind of what he was trying to convey...

"I wish to interrogate him!" Umbridge snapped. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," Snape said smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter--and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy if you did--I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling..."

Snape looked at Potter one more time; the boy's eyes were frantic, but he still couldn't pick up on Potter's thoughts. If only he could use his wand...but of course he could not start casting spells in front of Umbridge.

"You are on probation!" shrieked Umbridge. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I had expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave when Potter shouted desperately, "He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape froze, his hand on the door handle, while Umbridge turned to Snape and asked eagerly, "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape looked at Potter, careful to keep his face inscrutable. "I have no idea," he said coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job." Then he slammed the door behind him and left.

*** 

Harry watched his last hope walk out the door. But Hermione, of all people, lied to Umbridge, inventing a crazy story about building a weapon for Dumbledore and lured her into the Forbidden Forest where they were able to escape and set off in search of Sirius...

*** 

The first thing Snape did was go to his quarters and contact Black through his mirror. "Black!" he shouted. "Black, answer me! BLACK!"

Sirius Black's face appeared in the mirror, looking puzzled and a little annoyed. "You don't have to shout, Snape," he said. "What's so urgent?" Then Black began to look a little worried. "Is Harry all right?"

"Are _you_ all right? Where are you?"

Black frowned. "Where do you think I am? At Grimmauld Place, of course, in my little 'hidey-hole,' as you like to refer to it. And since when are you so concerned about my well-being?"

"Since Potter seems to think that the Dark Lord is holding you in the Department of Mysteries."

_"What?!"_ exclaimed Black, and then the anxious faces of Branwen and Lupin crowded into the mirror.

"Severus," Lupin said, his blue eyes filled with concern, "is Harry having more visions?"

"Apparently," Snape replied. "I couldn't really question him about it, because Umbridge caught him in her office..." Snape quickly explained what had happened. "He must have been trying to reach Black through the fire...idiot boy, he should have just come to me in the first place--"

Branwen was frowning. "Voldemort must be using the bond between them to try and trick Harry. The Occlumency lessons haven't been helping, then?"

Snape's face flushed red, and Black must have read correctly the look of guilt in his eyes because he shouted, "You bastard! You haven't been teaching Harry, have you?!"

"Severus!" Lupin exclaimed, looking shocked. "You didn't continue the lessons? But you promised..."

The look of bewilderment and disappointment in Lupin's eyes made Snape feel far worse than any insult Black could have screamed at him. "He never came back to my office," Snape mumbled. "He never showed up for his lessons..."

"You slimy son-of-a-bitch!" screamed Sirius. "You've been teaching your Death Eater friend's son, but you can't be bothered to teach Harry when his life depends on it--"

"We don't have time for this now," Branwen interrupted. "But I'm very disappointed in you, Mr. Snape."

Snape hung his head in shame. His old teacher was one of the few people whose opinion mattered to him, whose approval he had craved as a child...to see the looks of disappointment and betrayal on her face and Lupin's made Snape wish he could sink right through the floor and disappear. "I'm sorry, Professor," he whispered.

"We'll deal with apologies and recriminations later," Branwen said, as Black glared at Snape through the mirror. "Right now you have to go to Harry and tell him Sirius is all right before he does something foolish."

"Yes, Professor," Snape said meekly. "I suppose it's a good thing Umbridge caught him; at least while he's locked up in her office, he can't go running off to the Ministry of Magic."

"Report back to us at once after you speak to Harry," Branwen ordered, then broke off contact as Black shouted, "If anything happens to Harry, I'll--"

Snape filled an empty potion bottle with water and shoved it in his pocket before he left; he'd need an excuse to go back to Umbridge's office, so he'd tell her that he had managed to "find" another bottle of Veritaserum. He was halfway there when he literally ran into Draco Malfoy.

"Professor!" Malfoy gasped, panting and out of breath. Snape stared in shock at the boy: his face was covered with flapping bat wings. "Potter and Granger--they tricked the Headmistress into going to the Forbidden Forest with them--some crazy story about building a weapon for Dumbledore! And then the others--Longbottom, the Weasleys, and that crazy Luna Lovegood--they attacked us--hexed me--and went after them!"

"You idiots!" Snape raged. "You let a few Gryffindors overpower you? Including Longbottom, that incompetent little--" Snape broke off his tirade; he didn't have time for this. "Oh, never mind! Get yourself to the hospital wing, I'll deal with this!"

Cursing under his breath, Snape ran back to his quarters. _Stupid boy!_ he thought. _Didn't he realize I got his message?_ The first thing he did was to try and reach Dumbledore, but as the Headmaster was still in hiding, he was unable to contact him directly, but he did have the means to send and leave a message, which he did, asking Dumbledore to go directly to Phoenix headquarters and contact him. Next, he used the mirror to contact Black and the others, dreading the confrontation that was sure to follow...

"Damn you, Snape, this is all your fault!" Black shouted.

"Laying blame won't help now," Branwen said impatiently. "We've got to stop them before they reach Voldemort!"

"You'll need more than yourself and Lupin to take on the Dark Lord," Snape warned. "And he's bound to have at least some of his Death Eaters with him."

"Alastor, Kingsley, and Tonks are here right now," Branwen said.

Tonks's spiky-haired visage appeared in the mirror and waved at Snape. "Don't worry, Severus," she said cheerfully, "we'll bring Harry back home safe and sound!"

"I'm going with you," Black announced.

"You're not to leave the house," Branwen said, turning back into Professor Blackmore and giving him her most intimidating glare.

"I'm not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while my godson is in danger!" Black said hotly, for once not cowed by his former teacher's gaze.

"The Headmaster will be there any minute," Snape protested. "Someone has to stay behind and tell him what's going on!"

"I'll leave a message with Kreacher," Sirius said, brushing off Snape's objection.

"Damn it, Black, don't be so self-centered--"

"Don't you dare lecture me, Snape!" Black shouted. "This is all your fault, you know!"

"We don't have time for this!" Mad-Eye Moody snapped.

"Sirius, you _will_ stay behind," Branwen said, using her most strident, no-nonsense professorial voice and glare.

"I will not!" Black retorted. "Do you think I care about being captured when Harry's in trouble? And who knows how many Death Eaters Voldemort's got with him--you'll need every available man!" He glanced at Branwen and Tonks and added, "Or woman, of course." Branwen opened her mouth to object, and Black said in an obstinate voice, "You'll have to tie me up and knock me unconscious to stop me!" Branwen looked tempted to do exactly that, and Black hastily added, "And as soon as I wake up, I'll free myself and follow you!"

"Oh, very well," Branwen sighed. "We don't have time to argue. We'll set off for the Ministry at once. Severus, please stay by the mirror and wait for word from the Headmaster."

Snape paced back and forth in his quarters, cursing both Black and himself, until finally Dumbledore contacted him through the mirror. "Headmaster!"

"Severus," said Dumbledore, his voice heavy; Snape could see the living room of the Grimmauld Place house in the background behind him. "It was a trap; I have just finished questioning Kreacher--he has been reporting to Narcissa Malfoy--"

"What?" exclaimed Snape. "How--"

"I don't have time to explain, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "They are all in great danger; I am going after them."

"What should I do, Headmaster?"

"Go to my office and wait for me there. If I'm able, I'll send the children to safety there. I'll contact you as soon as I can."

*** 

Harry and his friends got to the Department of Mysteries, and found that it was indeed a trap after all; there were a dozen Death Eaters lying in wait for them. One of them had a pair of intense gray eyes peering through the slits of his hood that seemed oddly familiar. He knew that Draco and his father had gray eyes, and thought perhaps it was Lucius Malfoy, except that another black-robed figure said, "To me, Potter," in Lucius Malfoy's voice. And then Harry was too busy trying to escape to worry about who the other Death Eater was...

Harry and his friends fled with the prophecy sphere, but were eventually cornered near the dais where the strange stone archway stood. The Death Eaters caught Neville and threatened to kill him. Harry was just about to hand over the prophecy to save him, when Sirius and several of the other Order members appeared out of nowhere; they began fighting the Death Eaters, and Sirius shouted at Harry to run. Harry was trying to flee with Neville when he dropped the sphere and it shattered. He was horrified, but was too busy trying to save himself and Neville to worry about what the loss of the sphere might mean. And then, to his great relief, Dumbledore appeared as well--they were saved!

Meanwhile, Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange were dueling; Sirius ducked the jet of red light that shot from her wand. He laughed and taunted, "Come on, you can do better than that!"

The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest.

"SIRIUS!" screamed Harry. He saw a look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he tumbled backwards towards the ragged veil hanging from the arch on the dais.

Blackmore, who was closest to him, lunged forward and grabbed his arm. They both nearly fell through the veil, but apparently she was much stronger than she looked, because she was able to haul him back to safety even though Sirius was several inches taller and a good many pounds heavier than her. He collapsed on top of her, and they both fell to the floor of the dais. Bellatrix raised her wand, but Bane had launched himself into the air and was diving at her, clawing at her eyes; he missed, but spoiled her aim. She aimed her next attack at him, but the raven easily evaded it, cawing at her mockingly.

Kingsley Shacklebolt ran forward to continue the duel with Bellatrix, and Lupin and Harry rushed towards Sirius and Blackmore. "Is he all right?" shouted Harry.

Blackmore had rolled Sirius onto his back. He was unconscious, and there was a huge, raw wound on his chest that was charred around the edges; the front of his robes had been burned away. "It's not good," said Blackmore gravely. "He took a direct hit."

"But he won't die, right?" Harry asked desperately. "He can't die!" But he saw the fear and grief in Lupin's eyes, and the sympathy in Blackmore's normally cold green eyes as she turned to look at him. Behind him, he heard Kingsley cry out in pain, and turned to see Bellatrix running away as Kingsley fell to the ground. Harry ran after her.

"Harry--no!" Lupin shouted, reaching out to grab Harry, but he was too late.

"I'LL KILL HER! SHE HURT SIRIUS--I'LL KILL HER!"

He battled with Bellatrix, laughing at her panic when he told her the prophecy was smashed. Then Voldemort appeared, and Dumbledore battled him. Voldemort fled, possessing Harry briefly before he left. His scar and his head exploded with pain, but he didn't care, all he cared about was Sirius... He was still feeling dazed and shaken when Dumbledore handed Harry a Portkey and told him to return to Hogwarts with Lupin, Blackmore, and Sirius.

*** 

Harry's feet hit solid ground again; his knees buckled a little and the Portkey, the golden wizard's head, fell to the floor with a resounding "clunk". They had arrived in the Headmaster's office. Snape was sitting behind the Headmaster's desk, but jumped to his feet when he saw them. "Lupin, Branwen--what happened?!"

At any other time, the sight of Snape sitting in the Headmaster's place would have filled Harry with anger, but right now all he cared about was Sirius, and he would accept help from anyone, even Professor Snape. "Sirius is hurt!" sobbed Harry. "We have to get him to Madam Pomfrey!"

Lupin and Blackmore eased Sirius down onto the floor. "I'm afraid it's too late," Blackmore said softly. "He's slipping away. He'll be gone before we get him that far. No one can survive a direct hit from such a spell; I'm amazed he's lasted this long." From his perch on her shoulder, Bane cawed mournfully.

Lupin choked back a sob, and Harry screamed, "No! He won't die--he can't die!" He grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and started shaking him. "Come on, Sirius, wake up! Please, Sirius, please don't die...somebody do something!"

A hand closed around his shoulder and roughly pulled him back from Sirius's unresponsive form. "Out of the way, boy," Snape said curtly. His black eyes were glittering strangely, and he held a silver letter opener--one that had been lying on Dumbledore's desk earlier--in one hand. Before Harry could protest, Snape crouched down beside Sirius, pulled up the sleeve of his left arm, and slashed the letter opener down across his arm, just below a copper serpent-shaped bracelet on his wrist. Then he dropped the letter opener and pulled his wand out of his robes with his right hand. He lifted the wand and said, "Sanguis--"

"NO!" screamed Lupin, lunging at Snape and grabbing his right arm, disrupting the spell. "Don't do it, Severus, I won't lose you, too!"

"What's going on?" Harry asked frantically, turning to Blackmore, who was staring intently at the struggling pair, her green eyes narrowed.

"Severus is attempting to cast a very ancient spell--Sanguis Sanatio, or Blood Healing," she said in a calm, didactic tone, as if she were teaching in a classroom instead of watching a comrade die. "It is a type of blood magic where the caster can transfer the life force of one person to another. It is prohibited by the Ministry of Magic as a form of the Dark Arts because normally the donor is an unwilling victim. However, the caster can attempt to transfer his own life force to another, but it is extremely dangerous, particularly when the recipient is as close to death as Sirius is. It makes the bond between the two very difficult to break, and the caster might find himself unable to end the spell before all his life force is sucked out of him. If that happens, the recipient will live, but the caster will die."

Harry's jaw dropped open. Snape was willing to risk his live to save Sirius?! But he hated Sirius--why was he doing this? And why was Lupin trying to stop him? Yes, Lupin was kind to everyone, even Snape, but Sirius was his best friend, and if Snape was willing to take the risk...

Snape saw the look on Harry's face and snarled, "I'm not doing it for you, Potter! Nor for him!" He jerked his head in Sirius's direction. Then he looked directly into Lupin's blue eyes and said quietly, "I'm doing it for you." 

Harry sat down hard on the floor, the shock of that statement hitting him like a physical blow. _Why would he do that for Lupin? He hates Lupin, doesn't he...?_

Then Lupin shocked him even further by screaming, "I don't want you to!" There were tears streaming down his face as he continued to struggle with Snape, trying to wrench the wand out of his hand.

"Not even to save Black?" Snape whispered.

"No!" sobbed Lupin. "I can't lose you, not again..."

An oddly triumphant smile spread across Snape's face, and his black eyes were shining. He looked as if someone had just told him that Slytherin had won the House Cup, that he had been given the DADA position, and that Harry had just been expelled--all his fondest wishes granted at once. "Then I will do it," he said softly, "for you." Lupin started screaming again, and Snape called out irritably, "Branwen, get him off of me before I bleed to death without even finishing the spell!"

Once again, Harry thought that Blackmore must be stronger than she looked, because she was able to haul Lupin off of Snape without too much effort. "Are you sure about this, Severus?" she asked.

"Yes," he said calmly.

"NO!" Lupin was screaming, but Blackmore had her arms locked firmly around him. "Branwen, you've got to stop him, don't let him do it--" he pleaded as he struggled to break free of her grasp.

"You once told me not to stop you from making your own decisions," Snape said. "So don't interfere with mine." 

Harry wished he would stop talking and just get on with it before Sirius died, then felt ashamed of himself. Was it wrong of him not to care if Snape died as long as it would save Sirius? But Snape had volunteered, though Harry still didn't understand why...

Snape lifted his wand and shouted, _"Sanguis Sanatio!" _and held his bleeding arm over Sirius's face, allowing the blood to drip into his mouth. Though Sirius was still unconscious, he made a choking, gurgling sound, then swallowed. The blood began to flow faster, gushing out of the shallow cut at an abnormally fast rate. Sirius continued to swallow, although his eyes remained closed and his body remained still. Color began fill Sirius's pale face again, while Snape gradually turned whiter. The wand fell from his hand to the floor with a clatter, and Snape slumped across Sirius's body. His arm dropped, but landed on Sirius's mouth, and Sirius sucked at the wound greedily, swallowing convulsively, and Harry shuddered. His godfather looked like a vampire; he could understand why the Ministry had made the spell forbidden.__

__Sirius's body began to twitch, and Lupin shouted, "ENOUGH! HE'S HEALED, ALREADY! BRANWEN, STOP HIM--" Blackmore let go of Lupin, and they both pulled Snape away from Sirius, but Sirius's mouth remained locked onto Snape's arm._ _

__Blackmore slapped Snape's face--once, twice, three times--until his eyes fluttered open and he looked around groggily. "You have to end the spell, Severus!" she said urgently. "Get his wand, Remus!" Lupin pressed the wand into Snape's hand. "Hurry, Severus!" Blackmore cried. "I don't want to lose any more of my students!" Were those tears glistening in her green eyes...?_ _

__Snape feebly lifted the wand and croaked, "Fi...Finite Incantatum." The words were barely audible, but apparently that was enough, for his arm fell free of Sirius's mouth._ _

__Blackmore hovered over Snape anxiously for a moment; his skin looked pale and waxy--even more unhealthy than usual, but he was breathing shallowly, and the sorceress smiled. "He'll be all right," she said, sounding relieved. She smoothed his greasy hair back from his face in a gesture that was almost motherly--Harry had seen Mrs. Weasley do the same thing to Ron and his siblings many times--and tenderly kissed him on the forehead. "You did well, child," she said softly. "I'm so proud of you."_ _

__Despite his concern for Sirius, Harry couldn't help but stare at her for a moment. He knew Blackmore had taught Snape, Lupin, and Sirius when they were students at Hogwarts, but she had not aged, and it was very strange to see her caressing a man who looked older than her in a motherly fashion while calling him "child". She seemed to sense his thoughts, and flashed a quick smile at Harry, then turned back to Snape and said, "Or rather, I'm so proud of the man you have become, Severus." Snape smiled faintly, and then Lupin threw himself across Snape's chest, sobbing hysterically. Blackmore patted him on the shoulder and said reassuringly, "He'll be fine, Remus." Then she said, "Come, Harry, let's see to Sirius."_ _

__She didn't need to tell him twice; he ran over and knelt at his godfather's side. "Sirius?" he called anxiously. Sirius twitched again, then his eyelids flew open and he made a choking sound. He sat up and spat out a mouthful of blood. "Ugh, what's this awful taste in my mouth?" he asked. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then stared at the blood that came off on it. "Wha--what happened?" he stammered, patting himself on his now-healed chest, as if searching for wounds. "The last thing I remember, Bellatrix hit me with a spell--"_ _

__"You almost died, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, his words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. "But Dumbledore came and fought off Voldemort and gave us a Portkey back here and Professor Snape saved your life--"_ _

__"WHAT!?"_ _

__"It's true, Sirius," Blackmore said, trying to sound stern, but looking as if she wanted to laugh. "Severus used a Sanguis Sanatio spell to heal you--"_ _

__"WHAT!?"_ _

__"--So you ought to thank him."_ _

__Sirius looked over incredulously, to where Snape was lying a few feet away from him. Lupin was still lying across his chest, sobbing quietly, while Snape patted him on the back awkwardly, looking embarrassed but pleased. His left arm was still covered with blood, but the wound had begun to close and scab over, forming an angry red line just below his wrist. "B--b--but," Sirius stuttered. He started to say something, but seemed to change his mind and said instead, "That spell is forbidden!"_ _

__"Mr. Black!" Blackmore said indignantly, sounding like the schoolteacher she used to be; Harry half expected her to give Sirius detention right then and there. "Severus saved your life at great risk to his own, show some gratitude!" Harry had mixed emotions; he wanted to defend his godfather, but Sirius _was_ acting awfully ungrateful..._ _

__Sirius looked both angry and ashamed at the same time. He ran his tongue across his lips, tasting the blood still smeared there, and a look of horror gradually dawned on his face as he realized that the blood belonged to Snape._ _

__"You should know better than to expect common courtesy from Black, Branwen," Snape said calmly. He was still pale and his voice was weak, but he seemed to be in good spirits. "If you prefer, Black, I'll take back my blood and let you die..."_ _

__"NO!" shouted Harry, although he realized a moment later that Snape was joking. _Joking?! Did Snape just make a JOKE!?_ "Thank you Professor Snape, thank you so much for saving Sirius!" Harry said earnestly. He still hated Snape, but he was so grateful to have Sirius back that he could have kissed the Potions Master right on his oversized nose._ _

__"Hmmph!" Snape grunted, turning red. Lupin looked up and managed a small laugh, although his eyes were red and his face streaked with tears. "I told you, boy," Snape said in a testy voice, sounding much more like his normal self, "I didn't do it for you!"_ _

__"Then who did you do it for?" Sirius asked sharply. Snape just gave him a look that clearly said he thought Sirius was an imbecile._ _

__"He said he did it for Professor Lupin," Harry replied, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't supposed to call Lupin "Professor" anymore. Snape's face turned even redder, and Sirius looked quite put out for someone who had just been brought back from death's door. Lupin giggled, and Blackmore had a very amused look on her face. Harry looked back and forth at the adults; he was obviously the only one who didn't know what was going on. Despite his relief and happiness, he felt a little irritated, and asked Snape, "Why would you save Sirius for Lupin's sake? I thought you hated him!"_ _

__He half expected his teacher to yell at him that it was none of Harry's business, but Snape just looked at Lupin and said, "The boy's a bit dim, isn't he? If he's supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world, we're all in a lot of trouble..."_ _

__Harry turned to Sirius, staring at him expectantly. "You don't want to know," Sirius said darkly._ _

__"You'll understand when you're older, dear," Blackmore said, her green eyes sparkling with laughter as the corners of her mouth kept twitching up in that amused little smile. Bane cawed raucously; even the bird seemed to be laughing at Harry!_ _

__"I've just fought a bunch of Death Eaters and nearly been killed by Voldemort!" Harry shouted. "Don't treat me like a child!" Snape and Sirius both looked horrified; Harry had heard the stories about her fearsome reputation but right at this moment, he didn't care. The pent-up anger and frustration that had been building up all year suddenly spilled out, even though it wasn't really Blackmore that he was angry at._ _

__But instead of yelling at him or turning him into a toad, she merely gave him a sympathetic look and briefly reached out to touch his cheek. "You're right, Harry. You've been forced to do things that no child should have to do, and endured terrors that would have broken many grown men. But this is not for me to tell; it is between Remus and Severus, and if they wish to keep it private, you must abide by that."_ _

__"So who says Remus wants to keep it private?" Lupin asked, a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes. He was eyeing Snape with a look that was oddly predatory._ _

__And Snape, oddly enough, looked frightened of him. "No, Lupin!" he said frantically. "Don't you dare--" He tried to scramble back away from Lupin, but was still too weak to move more than a few inches. Lupin seized Snape's face, holding it firmly between his hands, and kissed Snape full on the mouth._ _

__Harry's jaw dropped again, and he nearly fainted with shock. Blackmore burst out into peals of laughter. A detached part of his mind noted that he had never heard her laugh before; it was a beautiful, almost musical sound. But the rest of him was consumed with horror as watched Lupin--Lupin, who had been his friend and favorite teacher, Lupin whom Snape had hated so much that he had exposed Lupin as a werewolf and had him kicked out of Hogwarts--kiss Snape, not just a little peck, but a hungry, devouring kiss._ _

__Snape struggled weakly, clawing ineffectually at Lupin's hands, then suddenly seemed to give in. His hands closed around Lupin's wrists, seeming to hold them in place instead of trying to pull them away, and he returned the kiss, almost against his will. _Merlin's beard!_ Harry thought. _How long is this going to go on? Don't they have to breathe?!_ His brief kiss with Cho had been nothing like this! He couldn't stand watching them anymore, and turned to look at Sirius instead. His godfather looked both furious and horrified, but not surprised. _ _

__Blackmore kept laughing, and Sirius glared at her. "This is all your fault, you know!"_ _

__"Huh?" Harry asked._ _

__"Severus and Remus became...friends...when I forced them to work on a project together in my class during their fifth year," she replied serenely. "I wanted to promote inter-House cooperation, not play matchmaker, but I confess I was not displeased with the results."_ _

__"B-but, they hate each other," Harry stammered. No, that was not quite true; he remembered during their talk about the memories he had seen in the Pensieve that Lupin had said he did not hate Snape, and certainly, even as an adult, Lupin never seemed to resent Snape, no matter how nasty he was to Lupin. "At least, Professor Snape hates Lupin..."_ _

__"There is a very thin line between love and hate, Harry," Blackmore replied, looking serious once again. "And Mr. Black's foolish prank turned Severus against Remus, and drove a wedge between them for many years." She gave Sirius a cold look, and he squirmed like a sullen schoolboy being scolded by his teacher, looking defiant and guilty at the same time._ _

__Sirius muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Slimy git."_ _

__Blackmore's eyebrows shot up into her forehead and her green eyes blazed. "What was that, Mr. Black?!" she snapped, and Harry hoped she wouldn't kill Sirius and undo all of Snape's hard work._ _

__But Sirius was saved, because Lupin had finally ended the kiss, and Blackmore turned towards them, distracted, as Snape spluttered, "How--how could you?! And in front of the boy!" His voice was shrill with indignation, but a little breathless, and he looked utterly mortified. His eyes flickered towards Harry, then quickly looked away again, as he blushed deeply._ _

__"You sound like a deflowered maiden in a bad novel, Mr. Snape," Blackmore said dryly, and Snape's face turned even redder as Sirius chortled with laughter. Blackmore's head swiveled back towards him. "Oh, shut up, Sirius! I just might lose my temper, and I don't think Severus is willing to perform a Blood Healing on you a second time!"_ _

__"Lupin tried to stop me, you know, Black!" Snape suddenly called out in a nasty voice, his black eyes glinting with their old malice. "He would rather you die than me--"_ _

__"SEVERUS!" Lupin shouted, anger, horror, and guilt all merged into one anguished wail._ _

__There was a loud CRACK! as Blackmore slapped Snape hard across the face. And when Sirius opened his mouth, she slapped him as well for good measure. "Stop acting like children!" she screamed furiously. "I've seen first-years who are more mature than you two! It's one thing if you're just hurting each other, but your stupid, petty quarrels are hurting someone who loves you both, someone who is much too good for either of you!"_ _

__Sirius rubbed his cheek and gave Lupin a hurt, disbelieving look. Snape's face must have been equally sore, because there was bright red handprint on his cheek where Blackmore had slapped him, but Snape ignored it. He was looking at Lupin, who was staring at him with a stricken expression on his face. Snape flushed and dropped his eyes for a moment, then lifted them again and whispered, "I'm sorry, Remus." Harry had never seen Snape look or sound so sincerely remorseful; in fact, he had never known Snape to show any remorse before, period._ _

__Blackmore calmed down a little when she heard that, but she was still angry. "Sirius, Severus risked his life to save yours, and you didn't even have the decency to give him a simple 'thank you'! And Severus, I don't understand how you can be so noble one minute and so childish the next: you risked your life to save someone you hate for the sake of someone you love, then you turn around and say something spiteful like that!"_ _

__"I don't lo--" Snape automatically started to protest, then saw the hurt look in Lupin's eyes, and said quietly, "I don't deny that I'm a fool. I was angry at Black and lost my temper, but I didn't mean to hurt you, Lupin."_ _

__"You were angry at me too, Severus," Lupin said softly. "For embarrassing you in front of Harry. And I apologize for doing that. But after your noble, self-sacrificing act--" Lupin smiled faintly, and Snape blushed. "--I thought he would figure it out eventually. And to be honest, I'm tired of hiding our relationship. We could have spent so much more time together this year if you hadn't been afraid of Harry and the others finding out about us."_ _

__Snape looked shamefaced, and suddenly all the strange little details Harry had noticed over the past year clicked together: the times Snape and Lupin had disappeared together, Snape's odd behavior at Christmas and the way Lupin had playfully teased him, Sirius's resentment and Blackmore's amusement...Snape and Lupin were in love with each other!? Harry's head started spinning; he had not received such shocking news since he had first found out he was a wizard!_ _

__"You're not ashamed of me, are you, Severus?" Lupin asked quietly._ _

__"No!" Snape protested. "It's just--well, if the Death Eaters find out--"_ _

__"I understand that, Severus," Lupin said patiently. "I'm not suggesting that you shout it from the Astronomy Tower. But surely the members of the Order can be trusted--"_ _

__"Perhaps. But the children will spread it all over the school," Snape complained, glaring at Harry._ _

__"Well, perhaps the Weasley children should not be told," Lupin conceded. "At least, not Fred and George, at any rate. But I'm sure Harry can keep his own counsel."_ _

__"He'd better!" Snape snarled, still glaring at Harry. "I swear, Potter, if you breathe one word of this to anyone I'll--"_ _

__"Severus," Blackmore interrupted in a tone of warning. Then she turned to Harry and said, "I expect you to respect Professor Snape's privacy, Mr. Potter. His personal life is no one else's business, and you do owe him a debt for saving Sirius."_ _

__"Harry doesn't owe him anything--" Sirius began indignantly._ _

__"We all do," Blackmore said loudly, overriding him, although she didn't seem to be particularly grateful that Sirius was alive and well at that moment. "Is that clear, Mr. Potter?"_ _

__"Yes ma'am," said Harry. He didn't like it, but she was right; he did owe Snape one for saving Sirius. To Snape he said, "I won't say anything, Professor, I promise."_ _

__"You'd better keep this promise better than you kept the last one," Snape growled, but subsided when Lupin whispered something into his ear._ _

__Then the empty fireplace burst into emerald-green flames and Dumbledore emerged from the fire. "Sirius!" he exclaimed, looking shocked to find him alive. Sirius grinned and Dumbledore embraced him, saying, "Oh my! Thank goodness, my boy..."_ _

__"Severus saved him," Blackmore announced helpfully, and Sirius scowled. "With a Sanguis Sanatio spell."_ _

__"He did?!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "Very impressive, Severus!" He looked as if he would embrace Snape as well, and the Potions Master took a hasty step back. Dumbledore smiled and settled for giving him a hearty handshake and a clap on the back. "I hope you thanked him, Sirius."_ _

__Sirius flushed, looked down at his feet, and mumbled, "ThankyouSnape."_ _

__"What was that, Black?" Snape asked, cupping a hand over his ear. "I couldn't quite hear you." Lupin sighed, and Blackmore glared at them again._ _

__"I said, thank you, you slimy git!" shouted Sirius._ _

__"As gracious as ever, Black," Snape smirked. "But you're welcome."_ _

__"I'm sure you'll all be glad to know that everyone else is all right," Dumbledore said. "Nymphadora Tonks may need to spend a little time in St. Mungo's, but it seems that she will make a full recovery." Everyone except for Snape made relieved noises, and Dumbledore said, "I believe Sirius and Severus should get some rest now themselves, and I do need to have a word with Harry in private."_ _

__Sirius, Blackmore, Lupin, and Snape filed out of the room, leaving through the fireplace. As Snape passed by Harry, leaning heavily on Lupin, he whispered menacingly, "You'd better keep your promise, boy!" but Lupin smiled and gave Harry a wink over Snape's shoulder._ _

____

*** 

Snape had been shocked when the others appeared in the Headmaster's office with Sirius Black's dying body. Snape had been prepared for injuries, and brought several bottles of healing potions and salves with him to the office, but it was clear that Black was far beyond such help. Potter was sobbing and screaming piteously, but that was not what had moved Snape to pick up the letter opener from Dumbledore's desk. No, it was the look of devastation on Lupin's face as he watched his last childhood friend slowly dying on the floor. Lupin had suffered so much already; he didn't want him to have to suffer anymore.

 _You don't think that he'll suffer if YOU die?_ the sarcastic voice in his head asked.

_I don't intend to die!_ Snape retorted silently, but the spell was risky, and he had performed it only once before, many years ago, when Voldemort had forced him to transfer the life force of a Mudblood captive to a wounded Death Eater. He had never tried it on himself. But while Lupin would certainly mourn if Snape died, Black was his oldest friend. They had known each other longer, since they were eleven years old, and deep in his heart, Snape had always feared that Lupin loved Black more than him, despite Lupin's protests and the Headmaster's lectures about love not being something that was divided up like a pie. Black was Lupin's last link to the past, and there was a bond between them, forged during their childhood years, that Snape could never touch, and feared he could never equal. Lupin loved Black and needed Black, so Snape was willing to risk his life for Black however much he hated the arrogant prat. For Lupin's sake. 

"Somebody do something!" Potter screamed, and Snape obliged, shoving the boy out of the way as he pulled up his sleeve and slashed his arm. He had just raised his wand and begun to utter the spell words when Lupin lunged at him screaming, "NO!"

"Don't do it, Severus," Lupin cried, grabbing at his right arm. "I won't lose you, too!" 

Potter was staring at them with a look of shock on his face, and Snape snarled, "I'm not doing it for you! Nor for him!" To Lupin he said softly, "I'm doing it for you."

"I don't want you to!" Lupin screamed.

Snape felt a fierce sense of joy at those words. "Not even to save Black?" he whispered.

"No!" sobbed Lupin, trying to snatch the wand from his hand. "I can't lose you, not again..."

Snape had never felt so happy in all his life, not even when he had kissed Lupin for the first time, not even when Lupin had said the words, "I love you." His heart swelled with that fierce sense of joy, as well as a bitter, sharp-edged rush of triumph. _Finally!_ he exulted, wanting to shout it out to the world. _He chose me over Black! He loves me more than he loves Black!_ His eyes filled with unshed tears of satisfaction, and he felt a wide smile spreading across his face. "Then I will do it for you," he said. Now that he knew Lupin really loved him, he didn't mind the thought of dying; he would do anything for Lupin--even give his life for Black. Well, he would have done it anyway, to be honest, but now he would do it gladly, at peace with himself, for his deepest desire had finally been fulfilled. Lupin started screaming even louder, though, and Snape called out for Branwen to get Lupin off of him.

He brushed off Branwen's query and Lupin's protests, and invoked the spell. The blood drained out of his body at an alarming rate, and as he grew lightheaded with blood loss, he realized that there was indeed a very good chance that he might die. _Ah well,_ he thought. _Better to die making Lupin happy than at Voldemort's hands. And that bastard Black will be indebted to me for the rest of his life, just as I was to Potter senior..._ There was a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he finally lost consciousness and fell across Black's body.

He felt someone slapping his face and heard someone calling out his name. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was not Lupin, but Branwen's face, her green eyes tearful and worried. _Professor Blackmore crying? Over me?_ Snape wondered if the blood loss had caused him to hallucinate. 

"You have to end the spell, Severus!" Branwen said urgently, and then he saw Lupin's face, also filled with worry, and felt a wand being pressed into his hand. "Hurry, Severus! I don't want to lose any more of my students!" Blackmore cried, and he realized that she really had cared about him and the other Slytherins, that someone else besides him mourned the deaths of Rosier and Wilkes. It made him happy, but there was no time to think about that now. He raised the wand and ended the spell.

Branwen fussed over him for a minute, then declared that he would survive. She gently smoothed back his hair and kissed him on the forehead, saying, "You did well, child. I'm so proud of you. Or rather, I'm proud of the man you have become, Severus." She looked almost motherly. Or at least, she had treated him with the affection and approval he had always longed for but never received from his own parents. Who would have thought that fourteen years in the Demon Realm would make her so tenderhearted? Then Lupin was throwing himself on Snape, weeping hysterically, and Snape patted him on the back in an attempt to comfort him. He felt a little embarrassed that he had all but declared his love for Lupin in front of Potter, but felt incredibly happy nonetheless. Professor Blackmore was proud of him, Lupin loved him; all was right with the world.

Then Sirius Black was shouting in horror and outrage as he found out who had saved him; Snape was enjoying himself immensely. He was a little outraged himself, though, when Potter actually thanked him, and he growled, "I told you boy, I didn't do it for you!" Black demanded to know who he had done it for, but Snape didn't bother to reply other than to glare at him. Black was a moron if he really couldn't figure it out on his own.

Then big-mouth Potter was spilling the beans and asking in an almost angry tone why he would save Black for Lupin's sake. "I thought you hated him!" 

The ungrateful little wretch; he was as stupid as his godfather. But Snape felt oddly amused, and asked Lupin, "The boy's a bit dim, isn't he?"

Lupin laughed, and so did Branwen, which triggered a temper tantrum in the boy. He half expected her to turn him into a toad on the spot, but apparently she was still feeling motherly, for she soothed him and told him that what went on between Lupin and himself was private.

"So who says Remus wants to keep it private?" Lupin asked, with a grin, stalking towards him as the wolf looked out of his eyes.

Now was a very bad time for Lupin to suddenly decide he wanted to become an alpha wolf! Snape protested frantically, trying to back away from his lover, who had apparently gone insane, but he was still weak from the spell and could barely move. Lupin caught Snape's face between his hands in an iron grip and kissed him hard. He heard Branwen laughing...and was that other sound Black retching? He struggled, clawing at Lupin's hands, trying to break free, but he was too weak...and the truth was, he didn't really want to. Lupin was kissing him hungrily, passionately, demandingly, forcing his tongue between Snape's lips, and Snape let out a little moan and found himself kissing Lupin back. Lupin was an enthusiastic lover, but he usually let Snape be the aggressor, and in a strange way it pleased him to have Lupin pounce on him like this, claiming him in front of the others and declaring to them all that Snape was his mate. 

Then Lupin broke off the kiss--probably because they would have fainted from lack of oxygen if it had lasted any longer, and Snape regained his sanity as he caught a glimpse of Potter's horrified face. "How--how could you?! And in front of the boy!" Snape shrieked.

"You sound like a deflowered maiden in a bad novel, Mr. Snape," Branwen said dryly, and Black laughed mockingly, which made Snape's blood boil. 

Branwen was scolding Black, but Snape lost his temper and without thinking, taunted Black with, "Lupin tried to stop me, you know, Black! He would rather you die than me--" Then Lupin was screaming his name in anguish and Blackmore slapped him hard across the face. That, more than the angry lecture that followed, along with the look of betrayal on Lupin's face, was what brought Snape back to his senses. "I'm sorry, Remus," he whispered, ashamed of himself; he had acted as badly as Black, maybe even worse... Blackmore was still lecturing him about hurting someone he loved, and Snape started to protest that he didn't love Lupin, but when he saw the wounded look still in Lupin's eyes, he knew he couldn't lie, not even to protect his cover or spare his pride. Besides, by now the truth was probably quite obvious, even to Potter. All he could do was apologize.

Lupin forgave, him of course. He always did, even though Snape didn't deserve it. Then he said, "...And to be honest, I'm tired of hiding our relationship. We could have spent so much more time together this year if you hadn't been afraid of Harry and the others finding out about us." Snape felt even worse than before; he had been so busy feeling sorry for himself, been so jealous of Lupin and Black living together, that he hadn't stopped to think about how Lupin might be feeling. "Are you ashamed of me, Severus?" Lupin asked quietly. Snape made a lame protest about keeping their cover, and Lupin calmly pointed out that he was talking about letting the Order know, not the entire world. Snape said he was worried about the brats gossiping about them, but Lupin said, "I'm sure Harry can keep his own counsel."

Snape wasn't sure about that, but as usual, Lupin and Branwen overrode him, and the cat was out of the bag anyway. "I won't say anything, Professor, I promise," Potter said.

"You'd better keep this promise better than you kept the last one," Snape growled.

"He wouldn't have had to break his promise if you hadn't ended the Occlumency lessons," Lupin whispered, and Snape's mouth snapped shut. This whole disaster was as much his fault as Potter's, because if he hadn't stopped the lessons due to his feelings of shame and hurt pride, Potter might have been able to block the Dark Lord out of his mind, and he would not have been lured into Voldemort's trap. Though of course if Potter had just been sensible and stayed put...

Then Dumbledore returned, thrilled to find Black alive, of course. He praised Snape for casting the healing spell; part of Snape was pleased, but the other part was resentful that the praise came for saving Black's worthless life. Snape wondered how many people would mourn him if he died? Lupin, of course, and Branwen. Dumbledore. Dylan Rosier. Possibly Professor Kamiyama. Four people, maybe five; well, that wasn't really so bad... And then Dumbledore made Black thank him, which raised his spirits even further. He was almost in a good mood when he left the room, leaning against Lupin for support.

*** 

They crawled out of the fireplace in Snape's personal quarters, dusting ashes off their robes. "You could stay with me here tonight," Snape said hesitantly. "If you want to." He wasn't sure, after the way he had treated Lupin tonight, that he would.

"Of course I want to," Lupin said. "I may be angry with you, Severus, but I still love you." He took pity when he saw the anxious expression on Snape's face, and caressed his cheek, where Branwen's handprint was gradually fading. "That must have hurt," he said in amusement, kissing Snape's cheek. Snape was still looking a little unsteady on his feet, so Lupin led him to the bed. Snape nearly collapsed on it, and Lupin sat down next to him. "Actually," he said, "I'm not really angry with you, Severus. Just hurt, and disappointed."

"I know," Snape said, hanging his head. "I'm sorry. I'd rather you were angry with me."

"Well, I am a little angry with you for risking your life," Lupin said. "Though of course I'm overjoyed that Sirius is all right. But you were taking a huge risk, Severus! Do you really think I'd be happy if you traded your life for Sirius's?"

"Well, I...yes," Snape admitted. "At least until you tried to stop me from casting the spell."

Lupin sighed--a very long-suffering sigh. "And then you had to rub it in Sirius's face! Why do you two have to play these stupid games?! Are you trying to drive me and Sirius apart the way Sirius tried to drive us apart in school? Is this some kind of revenge?"

"No!" exclaimed Snape, horrified. "I wasn't trying to--I just didn't think! I'm sorry, I just..."

"Just what, Severus?" Lupin asked wearily. Snape hesitated. "Just tell me the truth, Severus!" Lupin snapped impatiently.

Snape was suddenly afraid; how much could even the near-saintly Lupin put up with before he reached his limit? The fear of losing Lupin was the only thing that made him answer honestly. "I've always been jealous," he whispered, "of Black and Potter. Because they were close to you and I was not. Because you loved them. Loved them more than me."

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said sadly. "How many times must I--"

"I'm not blaming you, Lupin," Snape interrupted. "I know I treated you badly, after what happened in the Shrieking Shack. But the fact is, that you did forgive them, even Black. You went back to them, and I was left alone again. And yes, I know that's my own fault, but--"

"They were my friends, Severus," Lupin said, a pleading look in his eyes. "They'd been with me, stood by me even though I was a werewolf--"

Snape placed a gentle finger across Lupin's lips. "Shh. This is hard enough as it is, and I'll never have the courage to finish if you keep interrupting me. That is, if you really want to hear this." Lupin fell silent, and Snape continued, "Yes, I know. You had a history with them. But I didn't, and I was so jealous of that. You know, until I caught Potter looking at my thoughts in the Pensieve, I never realized that I resented you for standing by while they played their pranks on me. Well, maybe 'resent' is the wrong word...I didn't resent it at the time; I never expected you to defend me, you see. They were the golden boys, the noble Gryffindors, and I was just the slimy Slytherin." Lupin's eyes were filled with tears, but he still remained silent, as Snape had asked. "It was enough for me that you didn't take part, that you smiled at me in apology afterwards. I lived for those smiles; I actually used to provoke Potter and Black so they'd attack me, just so you would smile at me afterwards. But it hurt so much, to know that was all I would ever have, that I could never be part of your little group..."

Lupin couldn't help himself. He threw his arms around Snape and held him tightly, laying his head on Snape's shoulder as he wept, "But that's not true, Severus! I did love you, I do love you, even if I was a coward when we were children--"

"Shh," Snape whispered, stroking his hair comfortingly. How strange; usually Lupin was the one comforting him. "I know you loved me; those few weeks at school we were together were the happiest of my life, at least until we met again as teachers. And I know you love me now. But you love Black as well."

"But not--"

"Oh, I know not sexually or romantically, but you love him all the same. You always did, even after you had quarreled with him over me, even after you thought he was a murderer, didn't you?" 

Lupin nodded, still weeping. "But I don't love him more than you, Severus--"

"I didn't believe that, until today," Snape admitted. "But you said you wanted the truth, Remus. And the truth is--" He took a deep breath, then forced out the words he had been too ashamed to say before. "The truth is, I don't want you to love him at all. Nor Potter junior. The truth is, I don't want you to love anyone but me." Lupin stared at him, but didn't look as surprised as Snape had thought he would. Was his selfishness so obvious? "I know it's petty and irrational and selfish, but I can't help it, Lupin. I want you to myself. I don't want to share you with anyone, especially Black."

"Severus--"

"But I don't want to lose you, either," Snape added, "so I put up with it. But I was never so happy as I was when you said today that you didn't want me to risk casting the spell, not even to save Black."

"Then why did you do it?" Lupin whispered.

"Because you care about him. Because he's your oldest friend, the only one of your group not dead or a traitor. I wanted to spare you that loss."

"You moron!" shouted Lupin. "How do you think I'd feel about _your_ loss? Do you think I'd just brush it off, say, 'Severus is dead but that's all right because I've still got Sirius'?!"

"N-no, but--" Snape stammered, taken aback by the fury of Lupin's attack.

"You weren't being noble! You were wallowing in self-pity! You thought it didn't matter if you died because you thought I loved Sirius more than you!"

Snape felt as if he'd been slapped in the face again, probably because Lupin's words were true. He felt a sudden surge of panic; was this where Lupin finally came to his senses and left him? Why on earth would anyone put up with someone as paranoid, ill-tempered, and selfish as Snape? The pride he had been so concerned about protecting earlier meant nothing to him now; he would grovel in front of Potter and Black right now if it meant Lupin wouldn't leave him. "I'm sorry, Lupin! I'm so sorry, I know I'm an idiot, but don't leave me; I'll stop fighting with Black, I swear--" 

"You _are_ an idiot!" screamed Lupin. "Who said anything about leaving you?!" Then he cut off Snape's frantic babbling with a fierce, possessive kiss similar to the one he had planted on Snape in the Headmaster's office earlier. Snape clung to him desperately, and Lupin didn't break off the kiss until he felt Snape begin to relax, the fear and tension draining out of him. "I told you once--I have told you many times, Severus, that I will never leave you, no matter what you do." He gave Snape a helpless look. "What do I have to do to convince you, Severus?"

"I don't know," Snape said. "I'm sorry. Blackmore's right, I don't deserve you--"

"Severus! Stop that!"

Snape gave him a slightly crooked smile. "I know, stop wallowing in self-pity. But you are the only one who has ever loved me. And I've never really been sure why you do. I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to get along with...I suppose I'm afraid one day you will leave me and find someone worthy of you."

Lupin gave him an exasperated smile. "Severus, how can you be so arrogant and so insecure at the same time?" Snape stared back at him, his expression wavering between indignation and embarrassment. "Most people wouldn't consider a werewolf to be 'worthy' of anyone."

Now Snape did look indignant. "You know I don't--"

Lupin kissed him, lightly this time. "I know you think of me as a man, not a monster. That is part of why I love you. And you embrace the wolf as well as the man, and for that I love you, too. You spent years helping to develop the Wolfsbane Potion for me, without ever expecting anything in return, and for that I love you. I love you for the fact that you made it at all, after the way I hurt you when we were teenagers, and despite the fact that you had come to hate me. After the first war ended, you sacrificed your happiness to keep me safe--I still think your decision was wrong, but you did it out of love, and I love you for it. You risked your life to spy on the Death Eaters back then, and you are doing the same thing now, and for that I love you. You risked your life to help Mudbloods and Muggles--people you had been brought up to despise. Most of them were strangers to you; some were people you knew and didn't like, people who had been cruel to you in school, and still you risked your life for them. I love you for that. You protect Harry even though you hate him, and hated his father, and I love you for that. You're trying to save Draco and Dylan and I love you for that as well. And yes, I love you for saving Sirius, even though I was so mad I could have killed you myself! So you see, Severus, you are quite worthy of being loved, and are as noble as any Gryffindor." Snape was staring at him, looking completely stunned, and Lupin grinned. "Sorry to ruin your reputation; I know how much you cling to that 'sneaky Slytherin' image."

"Remus..." whispered Snape. 

"I love you, Severus," Lupin said, kissing his forehead, his nose, and his lips. He pushed up the sleeve of Snape's robe, and kissed the newly-formed scar on Snape's arm, then kissed the Dark Mark. "I love every part of you: the brave part and the insecure part, the compassionate part and the bitter part, and even the self-pitying part of you. I love _you_ , Severus Snape. Remember that."

"I'll try, Remus," Snape said humbly.

"Oh, and what you said about not fighting with Sirius? Don't make promises you can't keep. Because you will fight with him again, and you know it. And it will probably be at least half Sirius's fault, anyway." 

Snape smiled. "Yes, Remus."

"And by the way, you're wrong about me being the only one who loves you. Dumbledore has always loved you, and I think Branwen made it clear today that she does as well. She was strict with us when we were children, but now I can see that she always cared deeply about her students, especially you."

Snape looked a little stunned, and not quite convinced, but he said meekly, "Yes, Remus."

"And this business about wanting me to love only you?" Snape started to speak, but this time it was Lupin's turn to lay a finger across his lips. "You do know I can't do that," he said softly, and Snape nodded. "And think about it, Severus, you wouldn't really want me to." Snape looked confused. "Would you still love me, if I were the kind of person who could simply cast aside my oldest and dearest friends, who could abandon the son of my late best friend? Wouldn't you be afraid that I would one day cast you aside, too?"

"Probably," Snape admitted, looking chagrined. "But..."

"But?" Lupin asked.

Snape hesitated. Well, he had already exposed nearly all his secrets and selfish, petty thoughts and Lupin still loved him, so he might as well go ahead and say it. "I know you love Black and Potter, but...can I be first in your heart?" he asked in a tremulous whisper.

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School, former Death Eater and current spy, was staring at Lupin with all his masks stripped away, his face completely open and vulnerable for once. His eyes were filled with fear, hope, and shame, and he looked like a frightened little boy. "Oh, Severus," Lupin whispered. What had his parents done to him, what had the students at Hogwarts done to him, to make him so fearful and certain that no one would ever really love him? And why had Lupin not tried harder to befriend him and protect him at school? He should have defied his friends for Severus, he shouldn't have given up after Severus had rejected him. He should have kept reaching out to Severus, should have kept offering him his love, even if it cost him his other friends, even if it made him the laughing stock of the school. He couldn't make up for those lost years, but there was one thing he could do now. 

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said tenderly, wrapping his arms around his lover and pulling him close. "You can be first in my heart, always."

Snape laid his head against Lupin's chest and sobbed, with long-held sorrow and new, incredulous joy. Lupin lay back on the bed, pulling Snape down beside him, stroking his hair and his back, kissing away the tears on his face, saying over and over, "I love you, Severus. I will always love you. You are first in my heart." Lupin was not just saying the words to comfort Snape; he was not the type of man who was capable of that kind of deception, even for a good reason. When he made the decision to tell Severus what he needed to hear, he resolved to stand by those words. He would put Severus first from now on; he still loved Sirius as much as he ever did, but Severus needed him more. That would undoubtedly cause problems in the future, but Lupin would deal with them as they arose. Then Lupin silently, sadly, laughed at himself. Who was he fooling? He had already made the decision earlier in the Headmaster's office, when he had tried to stop Severus from healing Sirius.

Snape wept, allowing himself to be comforted by his lover. He knew the fear and self-loathing he carried inside him ran too deep to be healed in a single day, and the time would come when he would doubt Lupin and try his lover's patience once more, but for now, right at this moment, he believed Lupin. And eventually he stopped weeping, soothed by the gentle touch of his lover's hands and the sound of his voice, and Snape fell asleep in Lupin's arms, for this one moment feeling secure and cherished, knowing that Lupin loved him, knowing that he was finally first in his beloved's heart, as Lupin had always been first in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created the character of Dylan Rosier because I wanted to explore how differently Snape might behave with a student that he liked, as opposed to Harry's limited POV in the books. And once Book 5 came out, I found myself wondering if the Occlumency lessons might have gone better if Snape wasn't teaching a student who brought back such bad memories. Admittedly, Harry wasn't a very good student, but on the other hand, Snape didn't give much instruction to Harry on how he should "empty his mind" or defend against Snape's attacks. In general, I think that Snape would be impatient with students who don't catch on right away, but I thought that he might show a little more patience and understanding with a favored Slytherin student. I could have used Draco, of course, but at the time, Draco seemed too arrogant and self-assured for Snape to identify with to the extent that I wanted.


End file.
